


A Strange Set of Circumstances: The Prisoner of Azkaban

by Azorrah_lee



Series: A Strange Set of Circumstance [3]
Category: Glee, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Crossover, Fantasy, M/M, Mystery, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 01:30:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 84,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15853476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azorrah_lee/pseuds/Azorrah_lee
Summary: There's a criminal on the loose, more rumours and Kurt feels like he's being pulled back and forth. His only saving grace, he's found love.





	1. Chapter 1

“I saw him.”

“You must be mistaken.”

“He has his father’s eyes, looked strikingly like mother.”

“It couldn’t be.”

“Yet it was.”

“It mustn’t be!”

“But so it is, look at this picture.”

The dark haired woman looked over the newspaper article, “Mopsus said it, so it must be true.”

“Maybe he was bluffing.”

“Argyris Mopsus was the greatest seers of the twentieth century, he did not bluff.”

“The blind fool must have been wrong.”

“ _That which most shames me, festers within me_. He said, so it must be.”

“Your whole life you were never superstitious, why so much about this?”

“No man would waste his last breath on a lie.”

“But I stand before you with definitive proof.”

“Take it away, I don’t want to know.”

~0~

_Several months later…_

When Kurt opened the front door, Bomballerina shot into the house and up the stairs whilst his father struggled with his bags, there in the reception area of his home waiting for him were Carole, Finn, Harley and Hermione; he couldn’t help but let out a little squeal of joy.

“Oh Honey,” Carole hugged him tightly with one arm whilst Harley was straddled on her hip, “You’re finally back, I missed you so much.”

“Dad and Finn wouldn’t let you go to any museums?” Kurt mused while he played with Harley, taking her into his arms.

“Not a single one,” she giggled, “Can you imagine? In Paris none the less, you get comfortable and I’ll put on a spot of tea.”

Kurt nodded before moving on to the next person in line of people waiting to greet him, “Finnocence.”

“Don’t ever leave me alone with these people again,” Finn pleaded as he hugged Kurt, and by extension Harley, tightly.

“Did they keep disappearing to have sex?” Kurt chortled.

“All the time,” Finn’s mouth hung open but no sound came out, “I think I might just be celibate for life.”

“You poor baby,” Kurt squeezed his brother’s cheek playfully, prompting Harley to do the same, “one more summer.”

“I think I’m going to have to start liking museums,” Finn looked almost frightened.

Kurt took a step to the left, he looked at his best friend’s smiling face, “What are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad to see you but when did you get here?”

“I just got dropped off,” Hermione smiled at him, “How was Greenland?”

“Cold and Wet,” Kurt smiled broadly, “How was France?”

“Beautiful, we had wine with your parents and grandparents the one day,” Hermione had stars in your eyes, “Your Oma is amazing! She’s so funny.”

“It’s the pills and bourbon,” Kurt giggled as they lazed down the stairs to the great room, “you had wine didn’t you?”

“Yes, it was phenomenal,” she spoke as she looked about in awe, “It was phenomenal, I can understand why Finn is starting a club. Why is everything in this house white?”

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Kurt smiled as they entered the great room.

“What is this place?”

“I told you we were excessively rich,” Kurt shrugged.

“But why would you need this room?” Hermione looked confused.

“What do you mean ‘why would we need this room?’” Kurt was befuddled by the question, “it serves multiple functions; it’s where we watch tv, play the Nintendo, eat unimportant meals and such.”

“I thought we were having tea in the formal lounge,” Carole looked disappointed.

“I just spent eight weeks living outside,” Kurt shook his head, “I have to watch _The Sound of Music_.”

Carole’s face lit up, “I’ll pop it in the VCR-” she stopped halfway to the TV, “Actually, I’m sure the two of you will manage. Give Harley to me, it’s time for her nap.”

“Thanks Carole,” Kurt smiled, glad for her intuition. They watched her disappear before turning to each other with wicked smiles, “I’ll be mum, you sit back and tell me about you and Neville; I want details, not that glossed over garbage from your letters.”

“Well there really isn’t much more to tell,” Hermione twirled her hair around her finger due to the lack of an Alice band to fiddle with, “We wrote each other all through the summer and when I got back from France we went for lunch.”

“Lunch,” Kurt was on the brink of spontaneous combustion as he bounced on the spot, “Like a ‘date’ lunch or like ‘lunch’ lunch?”

“Well, it was meant to be a ‘date’ lunch,” Hermione sipped her tea to grow his anticipation, “but like this entire flirtationship, it ended up in limbo; so we decided it was best we stayed friends before we made things awkward for everybody, it’s kind of been put on hold till a later time.”

“Dating your friends is always a bad idea,” Kurt shook his head as he laid a comforting hand on her knee, “it’s for the best, I have this theory that if it’s meant to be it will happen someday.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Is this another one of your unhelpful relationship philosophies?”

“No,” Kurt snapped back, “It’s one of Carole’s unhelpful relationship philosophies; but look at her, she’s been happily married twice and she’s only forty, she must have some idea of how this dating thing works.”

“I thought you said your dad was fifty,” Hermione raised a curious brow.

“He is,” Kurt nodded, “he’s fourteen years older than her.”

“Hmm,” Hermione seemed to give the idea some thought, “Maybe senior boys are the answer.”

“I had some time to think about it while I was dancing in the rain,” Kurt tilted his head forward with a devilish smile, “Ravenclaw boys.”

“What?” Hermione almost spilled her tea on herself as she laughed.

“Hear me out,” Kurt held out a pleading hand, “they’re intelligent, witty and individualistic; at least in theory they should be.”

“I guess it makes sense considering we were both almost Ravenclaws,” she put down her tea cup and munched on a mini pastry, “but what about Cedric Diggory?”

“What about him?” Kurt countered defensively, “I will admit it was a great kiss but I didn’t promise him my soul, when he decided to date Cho Chang I got bored and moved on with my life.”

“Yes but then he kissed you,” Hermione pointed out, “doesn’t that change anything for you?”

Kurt gave her a queer look, “not really.”

“I’ve never known Kurt to be particularly forgiving,” Finn slumped into the seat beside Hermione lazily, “Cedric has quite the struggle ahead of him.”

“They’re doing it,” put his head in his hands, “right?”

Finn nodded, Hermione looked scandalised, “Doing it? Doing What? Surely not-”

“No, they’re not having sex,” Kurt put her at ease, “They’re doing something much worse, they sent Finn to gage our conversation; they want to join us. If we don’t send him off my dad’ll-”

“Don’t mind me,” As if on cue his father waltzed in with his pipe and a newspaper under his arm, “just reading the paper.”

“They do this all the time,” Kurt leaned in close, whispering to Hermione before switching to a loud over the shoulder shout, “you call dibs on a room and it suddenly becomes popular.”

“That’s nice Kurt,” His dad puffed his words, “would either of like to try my pipe?”

“Could you not be normal?” Kurt countered, “Just for today, until Hermione realises we’re strange on her own.”

“What’s not normal about this?” his dad countered

“It’s the twentieth century, smoke a cigarette,” Kurt raised his voice, “also most dads don’t offer to smoke with their teenagers.”

“Firstly, the flavour isn’t the same,” his father laid the newspaper down, Kurt was giving him exactly what he wanted, “Secondly, my dad used to smoke his pipe with me.”

“Which is why Oma is on pills and bourbon,” Finn countered.

Carole strode in at this point, she’d been listening at the door for a cue, “Poor Susan, her lifestyle choices are none of your business. I envy her, I wish I could sit all day drinking and popping pills.”

“Don’t we all?” His father sighed a large puff of smoke.

“What do you want for supper sweetheart?” Carole moved into the kitchen.

“Does it matter?” Kurt rolled his eyes, “I’m going to throw it up anyway.”

“That’s no way to talk to Carole,” his father gave him a disapproving look, “I hope you're joking because I pay an arm and a leg for your dentist bills, it would be a shame if you ruined your teeth.”

“Now how am I supposed to stay thin?” Kurt was playing his dad.

“You could try laxatives,” Carole pointed out.

“There’s already enough activity in that area,” Kurt countered.

“Now you’re just asking for a smack bottom,” His father laid the paper flat on the breakfast bar, “That’s no way to talk in front of a lady.”

“If I was asking for a smack bottom,” Kurt was quick on his feet, “I’d have said ‘please may I have a smack bottom’ but that’s not what I said.”

“Thank you sweetheart,” Carole gave him a small peck on Burt’s cheek.

“I meant Hermione,” his father countered, “There’s nothing ladylike about you.”

Kurt turned to Hermione, her jaw was slack, “it’s a game we play.”

“Carole mentioned in one of her letters that you let Dr Piper go all the way,” Kurt smiled.

“You win this round Kurt,” His father smiled, “my prostate exam, though traumatic, went well.”

“No cancer?” Kurt asked, “Then you might die, it’s always the ones who don’t have it in this family.”

“I’m scared too,” his father smirked.

“Enough,” Carole raised her hands, “Kurt wins, you’re scaring our guest.”

“We let you win,” Finn smirked.

“That’s what you always say,” Kurt stuck out his tongue, “How do feel Mione?”

“That was something I don’t think I’ll ever see again,” she nodded slowly, indicating understanding, “This explains so much.”

“So what do you want for supper?” Carole leaned in and messed up his hair, “Now you actually look like you’ve been living outside.”

Kurt spoke in a low breathy tone, “I just really want a thick-”

“Watch it,” his father didn’t look up from his paper as he gave the warning.

“Slice of Chocolate Genoise Sponge,” Kurt continued with an eye roll.

“Maybe you should ask our guest,” Finn suggested.

Carole’s eyes lit up, “Hermione?”

“Oh, well…” Hermione chewed her lip nervously, she looked to Kurt who shook his head, “I’m not picky, I honestly don’t mind but I’m sure whatever it is will be delicious.”

The doorbell rang, “I’ll get it,” Carole chimed, “saved by the bell.”

As soon as she disappeared Hermione turned to Kurt with fire in her eyes, “What was that about?”

“Carole is a phenomenal baker,” Kurt smiled nervously.

“But she can’t cook for shit,” Finn added where Kurt’s words had failed him.

His father cleared his throat, “Language.”

“You don’t care if we swear,” Finn’s voice went high, “Or did that change?”

“It’s the name of the place we’re having dinner,” his father continued, “June said it was a lovely indie place, apparently Lawrence and his friends love it.”

“We’re taking concierge advice from Larry?” Finn let out a grown, “bet you five quid it sucks and we end up at McDonalds.”

His father laid his paper down, “I’ll take that bet.”

Finn smiled wickedly, “It’ll probably be like the time we went to Blackpool.”

“Not the BnB incident,” his father shuddered at the memory.

Hermione giggled, “what’s the BnB incident?”

“So Finn’s Aunt June offers all us boys tickets to go see a soccer match with her husband Martin and son Larry, right,” Kurt began, “I wasn’t interested because it meant missing a piano class. Finn and Dad go, Martin drives them out to the coast. He gets shit faced and loses his wallet and with it; the credit card and id he booked the hotel rooms with.” Kurt let out a little laugh, “he says he knows a great BnB, they go with him and it looks fine enough-”

“I got an STD from the mattress,” Finn cut him off.

“It wasn’t an STD,” His father corrected, “it was a rash.”

“A rash?” Hermione giggled.

“All over his back and bottom,” Kurt let out a shrill laugh.

“I had to lay on my stomach for three days with ointment on my back,” Finn whined.

His father interjected, “Finn being the exhibitionist he is, chose to do it in here.”

“You wouldn’t carry me upstairs,” Finn countered.

“You’re heavy,” Burt countered, “I’m old.”

“Honestly Burt,” Carole added, “How much could a ten year old weigh?”

“He’s as big as I am,” his father held up his hands defensively.

“Is this the story about how Finn got Herpes?” she asked as she flipped through her cook book.

“Dude, you had herpes?” a deep voice called from behind them, Kurt didn’t immediately recognise it but it was familiar.

“It was one time!” Finn shouted defensively.

“Burt,” Carole snapped her fingers at him, “would you take Harry’s trunk to where he’ll be sleeping.”

“Harry?” Kurt turned his head suspiciously, “Harry Potter?”

“Who else?” the deep voice mused, Kurt and Hermione turned one-eighty.

“You sound manly,” Hermione teased as they ushered him over to join them, “And you grew.”

“Hermione, behave,” Kurt teased, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m late for the surprise bit,” Harry joked, “my life’s nemesis is visiting the Dursleys and I mentioned to Aunt Petunia that your dad gave me the whole ‘Mi casa, Su casa’ speech, so she arranged it.”

“We don’t mean it when we say it,” Finn joked making Harry look uncomfortable as he stood nervously, “We hate people.”

“Honey,” Carole called out loudly, “What should I cook?”

“You’ll wake Harley,” Kurt scolded, “How about you bake my cake and then worry about dinner.”

“That’s excellent idea,” she blew him a kiss and got to work weighing out the ingredients.

Kurt pointed to the adjacent two-seater and nudged Finn to join Harry, “So, Voldemort is visiting your family?”

“Voldemort isn’t my life’s nemesis,” Harry chuckled.

“He kind of is,” Hermione countered, “he’s tried to kill you three times in your short thirteen years of life.”

“I understand the confusion,” Harry raised his brows, “I meant my Uncle Vernon’s… evil sister Marge.”

“I though your aunt and uncle were the evil ones?” Hermione raised a quizzical brow.

“Not since last year,” Harry gave a strained laugh, “Now they’re just crazy.”

“In that case we should have them for dinner,” Kurt’s dad slipped into his seat at the breakfast bar.

“Not in a good way sir,” Harry spoke rigidly, “My aunt says Stephen Fry came to her and told her that she, Dudley and Uncle Vernon would go to hell if they treated me badly.”

“Stephen Fry?” Hermione looked confused.

“The comedian from that show with Emma Thompson?” Kurt didn’t understand.

“Him,” Harry nodded, “apparently he’s death.”

“Oh she is crazy,” Carole looked scandalised, “You should tell her to try pills and bourbon.”

His father hadn’t bothered putting the paper down as he added his two cents, “Would you people leave my mother alone!”

“Oh mom,” Finn looked at his bare wrist, “Look at the time and you haven’t started on dinner, I guess we’re going out.”

~0~

Kurt straightened his bowtie in the foyer mirror, he adjusted his hair and stood back to admire himself, “You look stunning.”

“You shouldn’t talk to yourself,” Carole pinched his cheeks.

“No,” he smacked her hand away, “I spent ten minutes on my makeup and you're going to smudge it.”

“Oh come off it,” she joked, Kurt looked her up and down, “What?”

“You don’t think you might be underdressed?” Kurt eyed her contempo-casual black dress.

“I’m wearing heels,” She offered as though it were an argument that might stand with Kurt, “that’s dressed up enough for me.”

“You’ll fit right in when we end up at McDonalds,” Kurt turned to look at himself once more.

“Finn, Harry, Hermione,” His dad shouted as he came down the stairs with Harley on his hip, “We’ll be late.”

“What about what you're wearing?” Carole countered.

“This Cardigan is an _Alaïa_ ,” Kurt smacked her extended hand away.

Carole shook her head, “No it’s not.”

“What’s an _Alaïa_?” Hermione asked as she slipped in beside him.

“This really important designer,” Kurt smiled and began to fiddle with her hair.

“ _Alaïa_ makes women’s clothing,” Carole corrected.

“Your point being?” Kurt gave her a blank stare.

“Either that’s a women’s cardigan or you're not wearing an _Alaïa_.”

“Can’t it be both?” Harry asked, earning himself a disapproving purse of the lips from Kurt.

“Fashion knows no gender,” Kurt said with an elegant shrug.

Carole turned to his father, “Burt, what do you think?”

“Kurt looks fine,” He checked his watch, “Finn!”

“Fine?” Kurt looked affronted.

“You look exceptional Ballerina Boy,” Burt spoke monotonously, saying everything Kurt had trained him to say, “Who are those pants?”

“Here!” Finn appeared in Jeans and a T-shirt, piquing Kurt’s curiosity.

“They’re _YSL_ ,” Kurt eyed his red pants as he was being led out the door and into the back of the large car that was waiting for them. His father told the driver they’re destination and relaxed, “Do you think he’d play my _Celine Dion_ CD if I asked?”

“Oh,” Finn face palmed, “I’d have bought _Take That_ if I’d known we were allowed to request music. Kurt fancies Robbie Williams.”

“Finn fancies Pam Anderson,” Kurt countered, “At night, if you press your ear to the wall you can hear him whack one off to the Baywatch poster on his wall.”

The car was dead silent until Harry decided to break the tension, “Did you guys hear about the escaped convict.”

“What was he arrested for?” Hermione asked.

“The news didn’t say,” Harry shrugged, “they didn’t even say where he was incarcerated.”

“Sounds like the BBC,” Kurt’s father shrugged nonchalantly, “when I was growing up on the farm, you kept your ear on the radio and that was the only way you heard was news during the war.”

“No you didn’t,” Kurt countered, “You didn’t grow up in Nazi occupied France, you were like two when the war ended.”

“Allow me,” His father pleaded.

“I doubt people were allowed to keep radios then anyway,” Hermione added.

“I think she’s right,” Finn added, “I’m sure I saw it in a _Robin Williams_ movie.”

“These kids won’t let me be a war hero,” Burt pleaded with Carole.

“If it helps any sir,” Harry’s voice was small, “you survived the First Wizarding War.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” His father shook his head, “Also, calling me sir is as bad as calling me Albert, might as well stick a fork in my neck.”

“Call him Alby,” Finn said with falsified seriousness, “Everybody calls him Alby.”

“Nobody calls me Alby.”

“They call him Al,” Carole spoke nonchalantly.

“Neither do they call me Al.”

“BurtyBear,” Kurt nodded with a smirk.

“That’s adorable,” Hermione crooned.

“Just Burt,” His father let out a staggered breath.

“Burt and Kurt,” Harry looked at the pair.

“No,” Kurt stopped him before they repeated the talk they’d given to ‘Lav and Pav’.

The car stopped, his father paid and they all got out of the car; before them was seediest restaurant Kurt had ever seen but there the name they were looking for was, ‘Language’. He felt overdressed for a moment but shrugged it off in stride as they approached, the inside wasn’t much better; it was dimly lit and crowded with men in leather.

“Is this a biker bar?” Finn’s eye lit up, “Forget McDonalds, I want to stay.”

“Not a biker bar,” Harry pointed to the sign, “leather bar.”

“You must the Hudson-Hummels,” the waitress in a revealing leather vest with tattoos up and down her arms said with a look of surprise, “Your table will be ready in a moment, can I seat you at the bar in the meanwhile?”

They followed mindless, none of them talking as they drank their surroundings. They followed their waitress closely, receiving queer looks as their good clothes and youth stuck out like a sore thumb in the sea of leather clad adults.

“My sister recommended this place?” Carole pulled her pashmina closer to herself.

“Apparently Lawrence loves it here,” Burt looked confused.

“Larry comes here?” Carole’s eyes looked about to fall out of their sockets.

“You’re friends of Larry?” the bartender asked them, “First round is on the house, what will it be?”

There was an awkward silence from the young teens, “Go for it,” Carole nudged them on, “If we’re going to be at a bar, might as well. I, on the other hand, am breast feeding and with a baby; so it’s home for me.” She kissed them all before stopping in front his father, “You take care of them and bring them all home.”

“So what’s it going to be?” the bartender asked in a thick Welsh accent.

“I’ll have a Guinness,” Finn nodded confidently.

“I guess I’ll have the same,” Harry mumbled.

“I’ll have a Martini with as many olives as you can fit in the glass,” Kurt nodded confidently, “I think that’ll do.”

“I’ll have a margarita,” Hermione smirked at him, “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I get the feeling there’s a lesson involved,” Kurt dusted a non-existent speck from his elbow.

“Look at this place,” Hermione gestured to the rest of the bar.

“I know,” Kurt knew he looked like a kid in a toy store, intimidated and excited, “we’re like adults.”

Hermione squealed along with him as they received their drinks, “And all the handsome leather clad men not aside, here’s to older boys.”

“Look at you Hermione,” Harry giggled, “you aren’t exactly the embodiment of grown up dressed like that.”

Hermione looked down at her A-line skirt dress, “I look like a flower girl at a tacky wedding.”

“Nonsense,” Kurt waved a dismissive hand, “everybody here’s too drunk to care about the fact that you’re wearing the casual version of a gymslip.”

“Gee, thanks,” She rolled her eyes, she turned her attention to Finn and Harry, “How is it?”

“It tastes vile,” Finn winced, they looked over to the booth where his dad was sitting, “But we have to pretend to like it or we may never get to do this again.”

“I think the more I have the better it tastes,” Harry pulled a face, “it might be because my taste buds are dying but it might also be because this stuff is secretly good, the secret is being kept from the drinker.”

Kurt and Hermione clinked glasses for luck, they each took a sip of their drinks and Kurt winced, “it tastes like something died in it.”

“Mine is salty and lemony,” Hermione grinned broadly and triumphantly, “with a peculiar after taste, I’m into it.”

“Mr Barman,” Kurt took another sip but it didn’t taste any better.

“What can I do you for?” He smiled at them.

“Can I have what she’s having,” Kurt looked down at his glass and shuddered.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “it can’t possibly be that bad.” She took a sip and her smile fell, “What is this?  Water from a lake filled with dead unwashed bodies?”

“Let me have a try,” Harry had a sip and shook his head.

Finn had the last of it, “it’s vile but it tastes better than this beer.”

“That isn’t beer mate,” the barman placed Kurt’s drink in front of him, “it’s stout, do you guys have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Not the foggiest,” Kurt shook his head and took a large sip of his new drink, a definite step up, “I want something that doesn’t taste like it has dead bodies in it, sweet and dainty like me.”

Hermione put her empty glass on the bar and twirled in her stool, “I concur, we’ve had wine and liked that.”

“And for you two?” the barman laughed Hermione’s susceptibility to alcohol, “what would the stout men like?”

“Anything manly,” Finn looked pleading as he finished his stout with forced smile, “just no more roasted toenails.”

Harry let out a loud belch, “maybe not quite as filling.”

“A round of Brandy and Cokes while I mull over the particulars and serve the customers who won’t get me arrested,” the man smiled and poured their drinks before disappearing.

They all sipped at their drinks slowly in silence before releasing satisfied moans.

“It’s like drinking soda,” Finn moaned before diving in for more.

Hermione let out a small giggle, “your face is like soda.” She hiccupped slightly, “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

“Me neither,” Finn giggled.

“You guys,” Kurt held up a lopsided hand, “are we drunk?”

“it’s that dead body water,” Finn pointed at Kurt accusingly.

“No,” Hermione shook her head, “I read in a history book that it’s alcoholism to drink on empty stomach, we didn’t eat shit.”

“I never eat shit,” Harry giggled.

Finn hailed their waitress, ignoring the busy barman, “Can we have the biggest plate of chips you have, keep them coming till we pop.”

“I need to pee,” Kurt mused as he got up and walked across the bar with less poise than usual but managed his way over to the bathroom without incidence. Kurt got into a stall, sprayed the toilet seat with his hand sanitizer, lined the seat with toilet paper and emptied his bladder. Kurt pulled out a wet wipe and cleaned the area he was going to put his bag on, grateful he hadn’t brought his Burkin, and then another to clean the tap before washing and disinfect his hands. Kurt passed Finn and Harry on his way back to the bar, they were obviously heading to the bathroom.

Kurt felt something grab his arm and then he was being twirled, he found himself sitting on the leather clad thigh of a bearded muscular man, “What’s a bird like yourself doing alone in a bar like this?”

Kurt eyed his father who was calmly taking off his dinner coat and rolling up the sleeves of his checkered oxford, he turned back to the man and whispered coyly, “I’m not a bird.”

“Not a bird, you hear that lads,” the man and his friends in the booth guffawed loudly, “Not a bird, what are you?”

“I’m a boy,” Kurt gave a small smile.

“A poof?” the man lowered his voice so only Kurt could hear, “You want to suck my cock?”

Kurt wasn’t sure whether he was more scandalised by the prejudicial term, the profanity or the obvious hardness he was feeling; he remembered himself and recomposed himself quickly. He leaned in so that just the man could hear him, “You see that man over there? Bald and built like a house?” Kurt pointed to his father, “that’s my dad and if you call me a poof again he’ll snap your neck. If you speak to me like you just did; he’ll chop off your balls and make you eat them, then he’ll snap your neck. Are you understanding me?” the man nodded, “Now unhand me.”

Kurt grabbed his clutch and sashayed back to the bar, he earned a small thumbs up from his father who could see the man looking shocked by Kurt’s words.

“Did you make new friends?” Hermione smiled.

Kurt was shaken, “I think just felt another person’s erection.”

“This shouldn’t be new to you, what with the frequency with which you feel your own?” Hermione joked.

“That’s actually really funny,” Kurt giggled “but in all seriousness, I always thought I was sexually progressive but I’m very old fashioned.”

“You’re just now discovering this?” she sipped at her drink and gestured for him to do the same.

“This is good,” Kurt took a large gulp and felt the dizziness returning.

“It’s an Old Fashioned,” Kurt raised a brow and she nodded, “now how exactly are you old fashioned?”

“That one wasn’t as funny,” Kurt shook his head, “I don’t know what I mean or what I want but just not a leather bar.”

“You don’t have to know,” Hermione shrugged, “you’re only thirteen.”

“Who’s thirteen?” Finn asked, him and Harry having returned silently to their seats.

“All of us,” Hermione mused, “Kurt was just prepositioned by that bloke over there.”

“Who does he think he is?” Harry got to his feet, “That’s Ron’s Kurt.”

“Oh no, not that again,” Kurt held the dark haired boy back, “Heel boy, you can’t use your wand and that man is five times your size. Alcohol is making you feel like Superman when you’re Robin.”

“Great use of comic book metaphors,” Finn gave him a thumbs up.

“What did you say to him?” Hermione ask, tucking a tuft of hair behind her ear.

“I told him my dad would kill him,” Kurt shrugged.

“Which he looked on the verge of doing,” Hermione added.

“Am I ever going to live down Ron’s fraudulent slip?” Kurt heard himself slur the words, “that doesn’t sound right.”

“Never,” Hermione giggled as she lazily chewed on a chip, forgetting her manners, “if you do forget, we’ll be sure to remind you.”

“I really want to kiss Cedric again,” Kurt slurred before stuffing a handful of chips in his mouth to stop himself talking.

“You kissed Cedric?” Finn was fuming, “Was this before or after the end of Chodric? Wait, does this mean you’re Kurdric?”

“No, we’re not Kurdric,” Kurt countered, “We haven’t spoken since, do you think I gave him an erection?”

“Kurt that’s my friend!” Finn whined.

“Do you think anybody thinks I’m pretty?” Hermione looked at him with puppy dog eyes.

“I think you're pretty,” Kurt laid his head on her shoulder, “even though I hate your hair.”

“You don’t count but think about it,” Hermione moved causing Kurt to almost fall of his barstool, “you have Cedric pinning after you, Ron declaring ownership of you and Goyle stalking you but all I get is ‘brightest witch of the age’.”

“Neville thinks you're pretty,” Harry tried to console her.

“I’m sure plenty of boys think you’re the prettiest girl in school,” Finn gave a goofy lopsided smile that earned him a giggle.

“You’re pretty enough for all the Slytherin girls to hate you,” Kurt added taking a large sip of a different drink, “Lavender is also threatened by you.”

“That’s not that hard to do,” Hermione argued with a hiccup, “I want girls like Padma Petil to stay up at night worried about the amount of time I spend with Finn.”

“Does Padma like me?” Finn’s eyes lit up.

“If I could make Padma jealous,” Kurt thought longingly.

“You made Cho jealous enough,” Finn waffled with a mouth full of chips.

“Oh I give up,” Hermione slumped down on the bar, “my best friend is perfect and I’m the sidekick.”

“I work hard at everything,” Kurt pointed out, “I put hours of work into my appearance and I’m enough of an enigma to get people interested.”

“What about the killing of dark lords and the beating of troll and such?” Hermione countered.

Kurt gave a small laugh, “I learnt how to apply knowledge from you.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Harry added with a laugh, “almost everybody thinks Kurt is a bitch.”

“I don’t understand that,” Kurt groaned, “I’m the nicest person I know.”

“Excuse us?” Hermione raised a brow, “You don’t see us calling people repugnant.”

“I called a decent human being in front of all his friends,” Kurt countered in a slur, “I’m nice to everybody but most people throw it back in my face. I was nice to Ginny Weasley and ran from me, I was nice to Goyle and he became obsessed with me, I’m nice to Santana and she still calls me Grandma in her letters.”

“You're still in contact with her?” Finn asked from where he was slumped on the bar.

“Both of us are,” Hermione answered in a tired voice, “I had lunch with her in St Tropez, her boobs are so big.”

“Is she still really pretty?” Kurt tried to raise a brow but he couldn’t feel his face.

Hermione groaned, “So pretty.”

“I still hate her,” Kurt bowed his head, for a moment they were quiet and AC/DC hummed in the background, “Do you want to make out?”

“Not really,” Hermione shook her head.

“Me neither,” Kurt hiccupped loudly, “I just thought it would make you feel better.”

“It would cheer me up if you guys let me watch you make out,” Finn giggled with a lopsided smile.

“What are you sad about?” Hermione asked him.

“Nothing,” Finn shrugged, “I just really want to see you guys kiss.”

“Guys, Harry’s doing something strange,” Kurt held up a silencing finger, “He’s making a sound.”

They listened and heard faint snoring.

 “He’s asleep,” Hermione cooed gently, “I wish I was asleep.”

Kurt turned on his barstool, “Daddy.” A sea of faces turned to him, “Oops, him.” He pointed to his father who grabbed his stuff and came over.

“Had your fill?” He asked with a small smile.

Kurt nodded and the room started spinning, “Can we have the bill? Give yourself a nice tip on my daddy.”

Kurt saw the floor coming closer but thought nothing of it.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt was woken by the loud and steadily repetitive clanging sound of metal on metal; as he tried to make heads or tails of himself he was hindered by the pounding in his head. Kurt soon came to realise that he was lying on something cold and hard; the floor, his eyes shot wide open at this realisation but he would soon learn what a grave mistake that had been. As he opened his eyes he was greeted by an intense burning sensation that prompted him to croak, “Turn off the sun.”

“Rise and shine!” His father bellowed across what he now recognised to be the great room, “Morning is here and it’s time to face the consequences of drinking; let us bask in the glory of our hangovers and go buy our school supplies.”

Kurt moved into a sitting position on the wooden floor where he’d been sleeping, his head started spinning and stomach churned violently, “I think I’m going to be sick.” He ran to the adjoined half bath and emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl, the heterogeneous hydrochloric mixture burned his throat as it was coming up but he couldn’t stop himself. When the vomit stopped coming he reclined on the bathroom floor, “I smell homeless.”

Kurt eventually got to his feet and moved to rejoin the land of the living, upon entering the great room he found his friends sitting in a dishevelled mess of last night’s clothes, it was Finn who was first to speak, his voice didn’t rise above a whisper, “Why aren’t you wearing pants?”

Kurt slowly looked down and saw his bare pale legs, “I don’t know, why aren’t I wearing pants?”

“You insisted on changing into your pyjamas,” His father chuckled loudly, “you said that you refused to sleep in an _Alaïa_ and we couldn’t make you but then you only took off your pants.”

“Sounds like me,” Kurt was leaning the couch, “why isn’t anyone else throwing up?”

“I think I threw up in the cab,” Hermione groaned with a grimace, “I can still taste it.”

“I can’t taste anything,” Finn stuck out his tongue and tried to look at it.

“I’m so thirsty,” Harry whispered hoarsely.

Kurt’s father handed them each a glass of water and an aspirin, “Drink that, then the four of you can go up to your rooms and get ready for Diagon Alley; hurry down for breakfast.”

“You are so evil,” Kurt took his pill and chugged the glass of water desperately, the pain in his throat was slightly alleviated. The group of four teenagers disappeared up the stairs, each off to take a shower and wash last night’s adventure off themselves.

Kurt entered his bedroom on the third landing and was grateful he hadn’t slept in there; everything was as white as he’d left it and it would have been a travesty to mar that with chunder. He lazily made his way to his bathroom; tossing last night’s clothes in the hamper as he did so. Kurt ran his shower extra hot as he brushed the putrid taste from his mouth; he jumped in the searing hot shower and washed the previous day away with great care. Kurt’s mind was foggy but he could recall bits and pieces of the previous day’s activities; the general consensus was that he and his friends had enjoyed themselves but at the back of his head loomed the question of whether his current pain was worth the previous day’s enjoyment.

Kurt had removed his contact lenses in an effort to avoid any unnecessary discomfort, he was liberal with his moisturising routine in an effort to prevent drying out, he put on an outfit consistent with the cloudy weather and finished with a grey beanie as he was too tired to perfect his hair. By the time he made it downstairs for breakfast everybody was waiting for him, looking just as held together as he did, he slipped in beside Finn and looked down at his breakfast with tired eyes.

“Eat up,” Carole mused with a small smile, “it will help with the hangover.”

Kurt drank his orange juice and began to slowly eat his waffles and bacon with a healthy lathering of maple syrup. He didn’t know why he was bothering, it would be asinine to believe he could keep this food down in his current state but he followed the instructions none the less.

“Did we have a deep meaningful conversation last night?” Finn asked through hooded lids.

Harry shook his head but looked to regret it, “I don’t think so.”

“You were asleep,” Hermione whispered in reply, “I think it started after Kurt was accosted by that man.”

“The one who called me a bird,” Kurt turned to his black coffee, “He sounded like he was from Newcastle but his tan threw me off.”

“You made a friend?” Carole smiled.

“He asked me if I wanted to fellate him.”

“I’ve never heard it put that way,” Carole giggled.

“Eat up so we can go,” His dad had a sinister smile as he spoke loudly.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Finn groaned.

“Nope,” His father collected their crockery and dumped it in the sink, pointing them toward the stairs, “Off we go.”

“I’ll bake more cake,” Carole declared as they trudged out the family room.

“More?” Hermione raised a brow.

His father gave a great booming laugh, “You, Kurt and Finn attacked it with your hands after declaring ‘I want that inside me’.”

The three teens blushed violently as they piled into his father’s car. Kurt attempted to get a little shut eye as they navigated the streets of London but as part of the lesson his father decided to blare Kurt’s own Celine Dion CD at maximum volume, or at least it felt like maximum volume as Celine flawlessly hit the notes on _The Power of Love_ ; Jennifer Rush was turning in her grave, of that Kurt was sure. Kurt soon found that falling asleep wasn’t his greatest struggle of the morning, he was still plagued with great difficulty of keeping his breakfast down; he thought he’d nearly lost it on a two of the sharp corners they had encountered.

By the time they reached the seedy London pub that would grant them access to Diagon Alley all four teens shuddered at the sight of it; every sight and smell in the Leaky Cauldron made his stomach churn. He had never been so grateful to make it out into the dingy courtyard out behind the bar, somebody who had better mastery of their motor skills tapped the bricks and revealed the crowded and loud alley that was hidden there.

His father led them through the throngs of people to the great alabaster building of Gringotts, they moved over to the same counter they had used several times before.

“Good morning,” the goblin spoke in a nasal voice as though he had a stuffy nose, “How can I help you?”

“Hi, Allergies?” His father casually leaned on the raised platform.

“Unfortunately,” the goblin rolled his eyes, “you making pleasantries isn’t helping, I’d like to do my job so if you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” His father’s smile fell as he dipped into the pocket of his jeans, “I’d like to exchange my money for some Galleons.”

Kurt’s father handed over a stack of notes, the cashier counted them out and handed back a small leather bag, “Will that be all?” His father nodded to the affirmative; the cashier smiled and bellowed, “Next!”

Hermione approached the cashier and repeated the process, and finally Harry said something that surprised Kurt, “I’d like to access my vault.”

“You’d like to access your vault hey?” the Goblin leaned over the counter, “Well you’re in the wrong line for that! This is the currency exchange!”

“Then why do you keep asking people how you can help them if this counter does one thing?” Harry countered equally as loud before grabbing his temple.

“They have vaults here?” Kurt finally caught on to the conversation, “Why don’t I have a vault?”

“Not now,” Finn put his hand over Kurt’s mouth to silence him as they switched lines.

It seemed like they waited an eternity for the family in front of them to find their key but they were finally helped by a much older looking goblin, “Good morning, how might I help you?”

“I’d like to enter my vault,” Harry spoke softly this time.

“Do you have your key?” the cashier asked politely, Harry produced his key in what seemed to be light speed in comparison to the family in front of them. The man smiled pleasantly, “Very well, Griphook!”

Griphook, a goblin himself, appeared from the wings and gestured for Harry to follow. Harry turned to his friends who were leaning on each other for leverage, “Are you coming?”

“Why not?” Hermione shrugged, pulling Kurt and Finn along with her. They descended a flight of stairs into what Kurt could only describe as the medieval version of a London Underground station, Griphook gestured for them to enter the small rail cart.

“Is it safe?” Kurt pursed his lips as he looked at the rickety topless cart, the expansive and primitive looking tunnel, “it won’t cave in or anything?”

“Really?” Finn asked tiredly, “Even in this state you have enough brain power to worry?”

Hermione extended a steadying and invitational hand out for Kurt, “Come on, people have been taking these carts for eons without incidence.”

Kurt climbed in beside Hermione and the cart started moving off; slowly at first but it accelerated exponentially in a short space of time. Kurt cursed himself as the cart moved at great speed in a gradual decent; the looked to be coming to a dead end when the cart began to plunge, still on the tracks, till the came to a great and expansive cavern that looked to stretch beyond the limits of even the farthest of the London boroughs.

“I’m ready to die,” Kurt groaned as the cart slowed to a stop in a narrow corridor with doors on both ends. Harry and Griphook got out but nobody else seemed to have the strength to move. When they returned Harry’s oversized pants were struggling to stay at waste level under the great weight of the coins in his pockets.

Once more the cart took off, going in reverse this time, back the way they had come. The cart slowed to a snail pace as they ascended the final stretch, looking straight down at their potential doom, Kurt felt his stomach churn but it was Finn who parted with his breakfast; a stream of grey liquid descending into the darkness.

“Does somebody have gum?” Finn groaned as the cart came a stop in the same ancient underground station.

After Kurt’s first venture into the bowels of Gringotts, all four teens were ready to die; the cart ride down there was the most tumultuous experience of Kurt’s life and he would not soon repeat it by choice. They had decided that the first thing they needed to buy were books because there were most of them considering Kurt and Hermione were doing twelve subjects a piece.

Their group trudged over to Flourish and Blotts, Kurt had never seen the bookstore particularly crowded but today it looked deserted; the display in the window wasn’t promoting Gilderoy Lockhart’s books as it had been the previous year but rather had vicious animals shaped rather similarly to books dismembering each other.

“Good day,” the shop attendant’s smile faltered when he looked their dishevelled state over, “You’re not taking Care for Magical Creatures are you?” He looked frightened as Kurt, Hermione and Harry nodded slowly, “You’ll be wanting one of those, would you like a belt with that?”

Kurt watched the man approaching the cage in the window, he donned elbow length dragon hide gloves and moved to the cage.

“Just two,” Harry called out after him, “Hagrid sent me one for my birthday along with a cryptic note.”

“Not more Nancy Drew,” Finn groaned from where he’d perched himself on the counter.

“Not quite,” Harry shrugged, “By the way, I’m not sure if I remembered to thank you for the new Quidditch protective gear Kurt.”

“You sent a note,” Kurt smiled, “I know it’s important to you.”

The shop attending returned with two copies of _The Monster Book of Monsters_ , each bound shut with a thick brown belt. Kurt grimaced, “You don’t happen to have a black belt, brown won’t go with this outfit.” The shop attendant growled, “Sorry.”

“What else would you like?” the man settled into the seat behind the counter, shooing Finn off the counter.

“I have a list,” Kurt pulled it from the pocket of his coat, “We’ll need four copies of:

  * Intermediate Transfiguration
  * Vanishing and Conjuring for Beginners
  * The Standard book of Spells Grade 3: Introduction to Object Enchantment
  * The Care and Breeding of Exotic Plants
  * The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts
  * A Modern History of Magic
  * Magical Properties of the Cosmos



Three copies of:

  * The Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles
  * The British Isles Through the Ages
  * Numerology and Grammatica
  * Unfogging the Future



And two copies of:

  * Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
  * Things That Go Bump in the Night
  * The Rune Dictionary
  * Ancient Runes Made Easy
  * Ancient Rune Translation
  * Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms
  * Spellman’s Syllabury.”



“That is a lot of books,” the man raised a brow as he summoned the last of the books, he loaded them into a shopping back and the till rung loudly as he finished, “That’ll be a hundred and eighty-one Galleons and fifty-three Sickles.”

They paid and moved on, “Why are there so many more books this year? You didn’t even browse for recreation this year."

“I’ll be a little too busy for recreation this year,” Kurt shook his head, “We’re taking elective classes this year.”

“And what exactly are you taking?” Harry turned to Finn as they moved toward Amanuensis Quills.

“Arithmancy and Muggle Studies,” Finn grinned, “Cedric is really good at Arithmancy and promised to tutor me, Anthony did the same with Muggle Studies.”

“Considering you were a muggle a couple of years ago,” Kurt shook his head in disapproval, “I don’t understand why you need a tutor.”

“We’ll see whose an idiot when you’re begging me to hook you up with a tutor in a couple of months,” Finn stuck out his tongue.

“You’re taking Muggle Studies?” Harry turned to Kurt, he noted that the boy didn’t suffer a dizzy spell and concluded they were returning to the living. His father had taken to steering their shopping trip as they argued, reading their needs off the list.

“Both of us,” Kurt nodded, “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t.”

“Percy said it was a demanding subject,” Harry shook his head, “I wasn’t interest even though he tried to sweeten it by adding that it was rewarding.”

“I had to take it,” Hermione smiled as they moved on to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, “Other than assessing the way muggles live, it’s an amalgamation of both Social and Natural Sciences.”

“It would have been an asinine move on our part to pass that opportunity up,” Kurt scoffed, “considering the fact that we’re considering taking our GCSE exams.”

“Why would you do that?” Harry grimaced as he stood on the platform being measured for his robes.

“We might want to go to Oxford,” Kurt countered, he knew the argument was won.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Kurt looked affronted by the question, “Hermione explain.”

“Well,” Hermione fiddled with her hair as she thought about how to phrase their thought process, “Kurt and I have a certain connection to the muggle parts of our lives and feel that we might not be completely fulfilled in the limited scope of careers available in the wizarding world.”

Harry gave it a moment’s thought, “What are you doing after school?”

“We don’t know,” Kurt’s voice hit an inhumanely high register, “We’re thirteen, we’d just like to have options when the time to decide comes.”

 **“** How did you pick your electives?” Hermione broached the subject with curiosity and caution.

“Ron and I each closed our eyes and picked what our pens landed on,” Harry shrugged whilst Hermione and Kurt exchanged horrified looks.

“Were you not paying attention during the introductory seminars on that Sunday?” Kurt scolded.

Harry shook his head, “What else did you pick?”

“Divination,” Harry spoke nonchalantly.

“Divination isn’t a particularly accurate branch of magic,” Kurt scolded, “You guys should have taken the choice more seriously.”

“Kurt scolding people,” His father entered the Robe shop with bags to his eyes, having gone ahead to buy the balance of their supplies, “somebody isn’t hungover anymore.”

The group seemed to pay him little mind as Harry carried on arguing, “You picked Divination too.”

“Yes,” Kurt subdued himself, not wanting to cause a scene, “but we knew what we were getting ourselves into, also we have other real subjects to steady the load, like muggle studies.”

“Like Muggle Studies?” a familiarly arrogant voice imitated his voice behind him, “Joke of a subject really.”

Kurt didn’t need to turn to see Draco Malfoy, though his voice was a fraction of an octave lower Kurt could never mistake it for another, “Oh my gosh, why aren’t you dead?”

“Hi Kurt,” he turned to see Draco Malfoy with his lackeys Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle flanking him and blocking the sun with their great hulking mass; Goyle was waving with a questionable smile.

“Oh, kill me now,” Kurt shook his head as he was called over onto the podium.

“Kurt,” his father gave him a penetrative look, “Who are these people?”

“The worst people on the planet,” Hermione answered for him, “you don’t want to know them.”

Draco growled, “I heard that, you fil-”

Kurt’s father stood at his full height, dwarfing all the teens with his great height and size, and extended a friendly yet intimidating hand; “Burt Hummel, nice to meet you.”

Gregory moved to shake the hand but Draco slapped his hand back, “Oh yes, the muggle.”

“Now, now Draco,” the elegantly obnoxious man Kurt had seen once before parted the hulking louts with a cane and came to stand beside Draco, looking into Burt Hummels steely grey eyes, “you ought to know better.” The man wasn’t specific as to what Draco should know better than because the air about him defiantly wasn’t one of tolerance; he was looking down at his father who looked like he was about to punch the smarmy off his face along with a good few teeth, “As you were plebeian.”

“The fuck did you call me?” Kurt could see the fire rising, they had poked the bear. Kurt sinisterly rubbed his hands together as he watched his father grab Lucius Malfoy by the collar and lifted him a good foot of the ground, “Repeat?”

Lucius Malfoy moved his other hand toward his cane but his father’s quick reflexes had grabbed the black walking stick and tossed it aside like a twig, the seamstress on duty was less than pleased with than pleased with the scene that greeted her when she returned from the back room she’d disappeared off to, “None if that in here, if you want to behave like louts you can do it in the street, where that kind of behaviour belongs.”

Kurt’s father put the blond man down and patted him on the head before whispering in his ear, “Jesus just saved your life.”

“Come along,” Lucius Malfoy tried to keep face as he turned to leave, “We’ll come back when the company is more… amicable.”

When the unsavoury characters had cleared out it was Harry who spoke first, “That was awesome, I’m ready to die now.”

“That’s where Kurt gets his aggression from,” Finn mused with a giggle, “they tickled a sleeping dragon.”

“They did what?” His father looked perplexed but seemed to have shaken all anger and was smiling brightly.

“The Hogwarts motto,” Hermione explained, “Never tickle a sleeping dragon.”

“I’m the dragon?” He guffawed at the idea but suddenly stopped, “Please don’t tell me dragons are real, I will feel stupid for never noticing them.”

“They are,” Kurt let out a small, “there aren’t any in Brittan, because it is illegal to breed them.”

“Much to Hagrid’s displeasure,” Harry joked, “Kurt on the other hand, is terrified.”

“Was terrified,” Kurt corrected, “I ride dragons recreationally now.”

“How did we end up talking about dragons?” Finn asked, showing his short attention span.

“Who is that?” Harry was standing in front of a wanted poster stuck in the window.

“Sirius Black,” the seamstress shuddered as she spoke the name.

“Who is Sirius Black?” Hermione queried.

“He was probably before your time,” her voice didn’t rise above the whisper, as though she didn’t want to be heard, “he was a follower of You-Know-Who, after the dark lord’s fall he killed twelve muggles and one brave wizard who stood up to him.”

“And he’s escaped from Azkaban?” Harry asked.

Hermione raised a brow, “But I read that it was impossible to break out of Azkaban, getting past the dementors is obscenely difficult with magic let alone without it.”

“He’s the first to do it,” she looked afraid, Kurt knew she’d say no more.

“Do you know what would happen if I met Sirius Black?” Finn looked excited, “I’d look him in the eye and ask ‘why so serious?’”

Hermione moved to comment but Kurt stopped her, “Don’t entertain him.” He turned to his father as he hopped off the platform to allow Hermione on, “Are we almost done? It’s lunch soon and I want a Big Mac.”

“I have to go get your school bag and then we’re done,” his father shot to his feet as though suddenly remembering something.

“My school bag?” Kurt raised a confused brow, “you people are buying me clothing?”

“It’s a belated birthday gift,” his father called over his shoulder before disappearing.

Kurt turned to Finn, “What is it?”

“It’s a bag,” Finn nodded as though satisfied with his answer, Kurt extended a hand toward Hermione and she handed him a blunt object that he threw at Finn, “it’s a nude leather tote.”

“Thank you Hermione,” Kurt smiled at his friend before turning to his brother, “you, bring that back.”

“I guess some dragons are more ticklish than others,” Finn joked as he handed back Hermione’s penny loafer.

~0~

Kurt and Hermione had come to the Leaky Cauldron for the second time that week, today it was just the two of them; Finn and Harry were left to their own devices as the pair venture off, Kurt suspected they would probably be in the great room playing Nintendo all day. Kurt and Hermione had received summons from the Minister for Magic with regards to their subject load from the upcoming year, they had been requested to appear on the second to last Friday before term in his locational office at the Leaky Cauldron.

“Kurt, Hermione?” they turned to see Padma Petil and her mother waving and wading through the crowd toward them; Kurt knew the woman from the board of trustees meeting they had held during the week since the incidence of the Robe shop, Kurt had asked to be appointed as the board’s proxy and it had gone his way.

“Padma,” Kurt wasn’t sure if they were friendly enough for a hug, “How lovely to see you here.”

Kurt pushed Hermione ahead of himself to gage their reactions, “I know, I thought I’d be the only one.”

“The only one?” Hermione asked as they hugged each other rather awkwardly.

Padma moved to hug Kurt, “yes, you two are seeing the minister about taking more electives? Most don’t qualify for an interview.”

“Oh and you thought you’d get it and not us?” Kurt asked accusingly.

“Well,” Padma chewed her lips but they soon curled into a smile, “I was first and Anthony’s request was rejected, he was fourth.”

“Oh and you think the jump between fourth and third isn’t so big,” Hermione looked on the verge of pouncing, “I’ll remind you that you’ve been first as many times as you’ve been third.”

“I didn’t crumble under the pressure of an increasing work load,” Padma countered, “First to third is such a great fall.”

“Guys,” Kurt stepped between the pair before their altercation turned physical, he wasn’t sure if Hermione would be able to take her, “Our marks are separated by fractions, we’re all brilliant. Back down.”

They recomposed themselves and adopted more civil attitude toward, “How were your summers?”

“Educational,” Hermione nodded decisively.

“Uneventful,” Kurt shrugged.

Padma looked surprised, “I’d have thought the Order of the White Lotus a tad more exciting.”

“I don’t know how to begin to describe it,” Kurt couldn’t string two words together in his vast vocabulary that summed up and did justice to his summer, “last year it was adventurous and exotic in an inactive volcano, I learnt remedial martial arts and how to manipulate fire wandlessly, and I even rode a dragon; this juxtaposed last year completely.”

“What’d you do?” she smiled sweetly, egging him on, “it can’t possibly have been that different.”

“It was on the ice sheet over central Greenland,” Kurt countered flatly, “Nothing against but it isn’t the most exciting place on the planet, even people from Greenland don’t live up there. I spent two months in a tent beside an overgrown puddle of melted ice.”

“That actually sounds beautiful,” Padma looked to Hermione for conformation.

She nodded rigorously, “I told him, he showed me pictures and it was exquisite.”

“Yeah but,” Kurt tried to find a way to convey his apathy, “This year was about appreciating nature and how the world provides for the human spirit through the abundance and bounty of water.”

“That’s deep,” Padma had her hand on her chest and was nodding with her eyes closed as if Kurt was talking to her soul.

“It ties in to the truth of nature so well,” Hermione agreed, “Water is in our bodies, the air we breathe and in the food we eat; it is the sustenance of life.”

“Yes that’s lovely but I thought I was joining a war council,” Kurt argued, “We learnt to dance, I’m a pretty good dancer and they wanted to teach me how to dance and heal people.”

“You’ve never mentioned the healing part,” Hermione looked affronted by the ommission.

“Oh yes,” Kurt let out a brash laugh, “We learned how to make and used a potion called sacred water; it’s not even a practical skill because all the ingredients are exclusively found in Greenland and are extremely perishable, so every time you want to make a brew you have to go to Greenland.”

“It sounds like it deals with the warrior’s spirit,” Padma nodded a surety that Kurt was currently lacking.

“Meditate on it,” Hermione suggested, “the last time you mentioned meditation as a large part of the process but this time you hardly mentioned it.”

“Well,” Kurt could feel a blush creeping above his collar, “I used that time to answer my mail.”

“Maybe what you need is to internalise what you’ve learned,” Hermione went on, “Mull it over; clear the action and see the intention.”

“Does she have to sound like a siege when she gives great advice?” Kurt whined.

“The minister will see you now,” a small hunchbacked man smiled broadly and gestured for them to follow. He opened a door and ushered them in a head of himself, “All three at once, he says.”

Behind a large darkly varnished desk sat the man Kurt had seen once before, his face was weathered by time and atop his rapidly greying brown hair sat a lime green bowler hat, “Good morning Miss Hermione Granger, Mr Kurt Elizabeth Hummel and Miss Pavarti Petil. I am Cornelius Fudge; Minister for Magic, Order of Merlin First Class, etcetera etcetera.”

“Good Morning Mr Fudge,” The three managed to chorus without realising.

“You have been summoned here today because I have received an application on each of your behalves from you respective heads of house detailing your desire to take on a greater load of subjects than the standard nine,” Kurt noted that as the man spoke a quill took notes behind him, “Do you understand the means by which you should be allowed to carry that out?”

Padma nodded affirmatively whilst Kurt and Hermione shook their heads to the negative; “There wasn’t anything on it in the library,” Hermione added, “I checked twice.”

“We’ll be issued with Time Turners,” Padma spoke clearly and intent, “My mother had one when she was in school.”

“Yes,” the minister smiled, she had impressed him, “I am here to do a final check and tell you of the grave dangers of time travel before you are issued with such dangerous objects.” The Minister had been pacing and had now come to rest on the desk in front of the trio of youngsters, “A time turner is a small clock like device that will allow you turn back time and attend multiple lessons at once; but when it comes to time travel there are a few rules.”

“You can’t be seen by your past self,” Hermione offered, “in theory, your future self would be able to handle the event but your past self wouldn’t understand what was happening. Seeing yourself might result in a Grandfather Paradox where you change your mind about the time travel and therefore you don’t see yourself, therefore you don’t change your mind and infinitely.”

“Very well done Miss Granger,” Cornelius Fudge smiled, “I am after all dealing with some of Hogwarts’ brightest. You also can not attempt to meddle with or change the past.”

“It creates a predestination paradox where you end up being forced to travel back in time infinitely,” Kurt explained as the thoughts came to him, “Trying to relay information to yourself or another in the past creates the ontological paradox where the space time continuum is connected at three points making the ideas existence dependant on loop.”

“You seem to know your stuff,” the man chortled merrily, “You should have no problem following the rules, I’m going to sign you approval papers and have you devices delivered to Hogwarts on the day before Term begins.”

“Wait,” Hermione raised a brow with a queer look about her, “We’re done?”

“Yes,” the minister nodded, “I just had to see that you had the capacity to grasp the dangers of time travel.

“How anticlimactic,” Kurt shrugged.

~0~

“Welcome back,” Harry and Ron bro-hugged in the dimly lit lobby of the bed and breakfast section of the Leaky Cauldron.

“Good to be back,” Ron smiled as he hugged Hermione, “Did you miss me?”

“Ever so terribly,” Kurt derided dramatically with friendly smile, “you grew, I don’t have to be the tallest one.”

“Yeah well,” Ron blushed as he stood in front of Kurt, “it’s better if I’m taller, isn’t it?”

“Isn’t it Kurt?” Hermione teased him.

“Don’t make me take you shopping again,” Kurt threatened her and she shrunk into herself.

Ron let out a laugh, “See the two of you are still completely mental. What kind of a threat is that?”

Harry shuddered as though remembering a traumatic experience, “A very real one.”

“It just wouldn’t end,” Hermione’s voice sounded vacant and distant, “the clothes piled up but he just kept going.”

“Oh come off it,” Kurt gently shoved the pair of them, “it wasn’t that bad, it was rather fruitful if I do say so myself.”

“Enough about you,” Hermione jabbed his side, “I want to hear about wizarding Egypt.”

“Oh it was brilliant,” Ron nodded enthusiastically, “I’ll tell you later if you don’t mind, I kind of want to step into the alley, get a tonic for Scabbers; he hasn’t been well for a while.”

“Well,” Kurt smoothed down the lapel of his shirt, “he is nearing the end of his lifespan.”

Ron looked horrified, “He’ll be living a bit longer so long as you keep your beast away from him.”

“Bomballerina won’t be his end,” Kurt shook his head, “He’s an ordinary rat, they live a maximum of seven years.”

“Scabbers isn’t ordinary,” Ron argued holding the rat out toward Kurt, “Look at him, he’s exceptional.”

Kurt let out a wheezy breath, “if you treasure the time we spend together you will get that rat away from me.”

“Scabbers has been in my family for twelve years,” Ron said as he put the rat in his pocket.

Kurt’s eyes went wide, “you should donate him to science, he may have the key scientists are looking for to extend human life; they’ll dissect him and figure out why he’s lived seventy percent longer than his maximum lifespan.”

Ron looked horrified, “Dissect poor old Scabbers?”

“It would be for the betterment of mankind,” Hermione argue for him, “the research they develop would allow you to live till you were approximately two hundred and four.”

“You guys need to stop,” Ron held up a dismissive hand, “Harry, tell them to leave Scabbers alone.”

“Hmm,” Harry looked around himself suspiciously as he re-joined the land of the living, “What was that?”

“What were you thinking about?” Hermione looked slightly concerned.

“Voldemort,” Harry was matter of fact about the subject, “He’s caused problems at Hogwarts every year since we started, I was wondering if he’d be there this year.”

“Every year is a bit of an inaccurate variable,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “it’s only been two years; twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern.”

“You’re almost as bad at being reassuring as you are at giving relationship advice,” Hermione scoffed, “Harry, you can’t live your life in fear of what Voldemort might do.”

Kurt stared coldly at Hermione, “Also, it’s not your problem honey; Voldemort isn’t your problem unless you make him your problem.”

“What do you mean he’s not Harry’s problem?” Ron’s voice crossed from it new resting pitch of alto to a soprano that rivalled Kurt’s, “Harry’s the only person who has defeated You-Know-Who, if he doesn’t do it then who will?”

“How about the Auror Office at the Ministry of Magic?” Kurt suggested curtly.

Ron rolled his eyes, “What do they know?”

“Uh, they’re trained to deal with dark witches and wizards,” Kurt countered, “Also, Harry isn’t the only person to defeat Voldemort, I managed it pretty well which means anyone can do it.”

“That’s enough,” Harry shouted, earning their silence, “Every time we broach a new subject, you two start to argue and turn it into the Ron and Kurt show.”

“That’s absurd,” Kurt put on his best wounded look, “Everybody knows it’s the Kurt and Ron show.”

“Harry’s right, you know,” Hermione nudged him, “the pair of you are impossible.”

Kurt rolled his eyes as they entered _Magical Menagerie_ and Ron walked to the counter with Scabbers in hand, “Hi, can you help me? It’s my rat, he’s been off colour for a while now. Tell me there’s something you can do.”

The woman looked at the rat with minimal interest, “try some rat tonic.”

“Rat ton-” Ron let out a loud hoarse wail as a ginger coloured blob of fur pounced on him.

“Crookshanks!” the woman spoke firmly but didn’t move to intervene as her interest was yet to be piqued, “Away with you Crookshanks!”

“It’s eating my face,” Ron cried out as his friends watched on, laughing.

Hermione put a stilling hand on Ron’s shoulder, she grabbed Crookshanks and held the large ginger cat in her arms, “he wasn’t eating your face, he was just using you as a fulcrum to get to Scabbers.”

“Is that any better?” Ron shouted at her.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “it’s instinctual, he doesn’t mean it with malicious intent.”

“Give old Crookshanks to me,” the lady held out her hands to receive the cat but Hermione hesitated.

“Is he your pet?” Hermione asked seemingly down trotted.

The woman shook her head and put Crookshanks down, “he’s one of the kittens I was selling some years, he never sold and now he probably never will; the part kneazle ones are harder to peddle because they aren’t as cute as the kittens nor the kneazle cubs.”

“How much?” Hermione snapped before the woman could slip back into her stupor of disinterest.

“Oh no,” the woman chuckled lightly, “You don’t have to feel sorry for him.”

The cat was curled between Hermione’s legs when she picked him up, “I’m taking him, either you sell him to me or I steal him.”

“That’s a bit extremist,” Kurt gave her penetrative glare over the frame of his glasses.

Ron nodded his agreements, “Especially considering the fact that it tried to eat Scabbers’ face.”

“Hush,” Hermione put her coins on the counter and ushered for them to leave.

“Hermione,” Harry called after her, he had a wicked smile plastered across his face, “can I stroke your pussy?”

The group let out a loud laugh, “You never ask before playing with my pussy,” Kurt countered with a light giggle.

“Harry!” the group turned three-sixty, trying to see who was calling them, “Kurt! Hermione! Ron!”

Their attention was finally drawn to the dusty store front window at Ollivander’s; there Neville was, waving them over frantically. They made their way over to the shop, the silver bell over the door rang merrily as they bustled into the deserted store from the crowded alley; today seemed to be the day when most were doing their school shopping.

“Hi guys,” Neville smiled broadly as he waved frantically, “Fancy meeting you here.”

“These things happen in threes for me,” Kurt shrugged as he looked about the shop he hadn’t entered in two years, everything looked exactly as it had; all the furniture was exactly where it had been, the wands were still stacked haphazardly to the ceiling and there was even the exact same amount of dust, unmoved by time.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked with Crookshanks reclined in her arms, “You have a wand, don’t you?”

“I do but it was my father’s old wand and after hearing that You-Know-Who couldn’t use Kurt’s wand I figure it was safer to have my own,” Neville shrugged with a juxtaposing self-satisfied nod, “considering how much better I did last year, my gran thought I deserved it.”

“What’d you get?” Kurt asked curiously.

“Cherry, unicorn tail hair,” Neville dropped the wand as he was pulling it out of his pocket.

Kurt nodded, “Sounds right.”

“Oh,” Hermione raised a curious brow, “is that so? You read one book and suddenly you're an expert?”

“I never claimed to be an expert but you’re free to call me one if you desire,” Kurt gave a saccharine smile, barely avoiding embarrassment, “what I was alluding to was that Fat had a chart in his book that detailed the properties of wand materials and the kind of user they are best suited for; that’s why the wand chooses the wizard.”

“Sometimes I wonder how you can simultaneously be so full of shit and so full of knowledge at the same time,” Hermione gently nudged his shoulder.

“I have an undetectable extension charm,” Kurt let out a small giggle.

“You two,” Neville shook his head with a small chuckle.

Ron leaned to whisper but failed to lower his voice, “Mental.”

Then an elegantly lithe woman strolled up to their group, “Oh my God,” Kurt slapped his hand over his mouth, “it’s Helen Mirran.”

“No,” Hermione hissed back at him behind a concealing hand, “that’s the Queen.”

“That’s my gran,” Neville gave them a queer look.

She looked rather disinterested as she spoke, at least that was the vibe Kurt picked up; it was hard to tell, between the brim of her large hat hiding a significant portion of her face and the stuffed vulture sitting atop said hat drawing his attention away, thus obscuring his observation.

“Neville,” she smiled curtly, that much was obvious, “Are these your friends? Who’ve we got?”

“Yes Grandma,” Neville sounded nervous, Kurt understood why, “This is Harry, Ron, Kurt and Hermione.”

“Augusta Longbottom,” she greeted each with a firm handshake, “it is pleasure to finally put faces to the names, Neville speaks a great deal about each of you.”

“Really?” Hermione smiled devilishly, “Most of us don’t mention Ron to our families.”

“Good one,” Kurt smiled at her broadly, “Ten points to Gryffindor.”

“You two must be Kurt and Hermione,” she nodded, pointing at the pair, “Harry and Kurt are the ones that look alike, right?” Neville nodded, “yes, your witty banter gave you away but the pair of you are truly distinguishable from the rest by your exceptional good looks, Neville failed to mention that.”

“Thank you, did you hear that Hermione?” Kurt jabbed her in the ribs with his elbow and smiled brightly, “We have exceptional good looks.”

“And you look just like you father,” she wagged a finger in front of Ron’s face, “just as tall and gangly as he was, let’s hope you keep your hair longer than he did.”

“My Granma has this exceptional talent of knowing every wizard in the United Kingdom,” Neville rolled his eyes, “She stops every five steps to talk to someone when we leave the house.”

“That happens when you’re as old as I am,” she shortled merrily before turning to the final member of their brood, “And you're Harry Potter, another one looks like his father and every Potter before him.”

“So I’ve been told,” Harry blushed nervously.

“All of you should be taking care of yourselves, not walking the streets alone,” she scolded them, “Haven’t you heard there’s a killer on the loose and I suspect he’s got a bone to pick with one of you; Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.”

“Me?” Harry’s eyes had bulged so far out of his head that if it hadn’t been for his glasses, they’d have fallen straight out of his head, “Why would Sirius Black want me?”

“An adult as formidable as yourself should know better,” Augusta shook her head in disapproval, causing even Kurt to shrink back, “Sirius Black was one of You-Know-Who’s biggest supporters, when you defeated him Black lost everything; take my warning, look both ways before crossing the street. Come along Neville.”

“Bye guys,” Neville waved as he took off after his grandmother.

“Well,” Kurt shrugged, “That was weird.”

“Weird?” Ron looked affronted, “He’s after Harry and you think that’s weird?”

“No, that bit is normal,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “I’m very worried about that but I mean, honestly, when has an adult ever been so forth coming with us about anything? Hermione isn’t even curious, she won’t be going to the library tonight.”

“Oh,” the wild haired man who managed the store noticed them and halted their conversation, “How can I help you?”

“Oh no,” Hermione waved her hands, “We’re not in need of assistance, we were with the people before us.”

“It’s not every day a unicorn tail hair, dragon heartstring and a phoenix tail feather walk into my store with an enigma wrapped in a mystery,” the man seemed to be looking at the boxes that lined the wall.

“Basilisk plume feather,” Kurt corrected with a small smile, “thanks for that by the way, where did you say you got it?”

“Basilisk plume feather?” the man’s eyes grew very wide, he extended his hand; Kurt handed his wand over, he tried to bend it, “Rigid and unyielding, this wand has always been stubborn but now we know why; basilisks are known to only yield to their master and heirs of their master, lethal. This wand has great potential and power within.”

“Where did you get it?” Kurt emphasised each syllable.

“I will tell you the same thing I told you when I gave you this wand,” the man moved to the window where he wand had been on display, “this wand had been in this shop, in this window for more than two thousand years when I gave it to you; it was amongst the possessions of my ancestors when they came to England.”

“Where did they come from?” Kurt was losing his patience.

“They were travelling from Eastern Europe,” the man began to eye the boxes again, “what might today be called Istanbul.”

“You’re Turkish?” Hermione raised a confused brow.

“It was part of Greece back then,” Kurt corrected, “Constantinople; my name is Turkish though.”

“I thought you were German?” Harry looked even more confused.

“I am German, it’s a homonym,” Kurt noted that most of their group still looked confused, “Kurt is a German given name commonly believed to come from the shortened form of Konrad, Curtis or Kunibert; Kurt is also a rough Anglicisation of the Turkish word for wolf; It’s also a village in Slovakia; all have the same spelling but with different meanings and origins.”

Ron slung an arm over his shoulder, “Sometimes I feel like I learn more from you than I do from school.”

Kurt blushed lightly but nodded his agreement, “My curriculum structure is more sound and consistent.”

~0~

The minimal remnants of their vacation had been fleeting, the week with the Weasleys had been rather entertaining, most memorably had been Ron sulking for the good part of two days after showing his friends their family picture in front of the Pyramid of Giza; Kurt suspected that it was because he and Hermione had commented that his older brothers, Bill and Charlie, were attractive but couldn’t be sure. Kurt had learned that when she wasn’t sharing her soul with the Dark Lord, Ginny could be rather interesting to have around; she wasn’t exactly besties with them, what with her more tomboyish personality but they were on much better terms.

The most troubling part of the time he spent with the Weasleys was simply Mrs Weasley; Kurt had nothing against her but she was very maternal and his mother was dead, she had been for more than half of his life. Sure, very soon after his mother’s departure Carole had been introduced into his life but that was different because she treated him like an adult; Mrs Weasley had fussed over the size of his meals, she had attempted to straighten Kurt’s already pristine clothing and she’d even offered to touch up his brand new fifty quid haircut. Kurt suspected that raising six boys and Ginny had made her believe that she had to straighten up everything up after children, that definitely wasn’t the case with Kurt.

Mr Weasley had been fascinated by Kurt and Hermione’s muggleborn status, taking every opportunity to ask them about human ingenuity; Kurt’s fascination with the sound of his own voice had spring boarded many a long and perplex debate about the infinite power of muggles. Kurt had explained how muggles, in an effort to make their lives easier, had invented first the steam engine and then had harnessed the earth’s mineral wealth to make electricity; he’d even gone on to mention that the reason why schools, even wizarding schools, vacationed in summer was so that medieval muggles had their children around to tend the fields in the summer. Mr Weasley had been truly fascinated by everything Kurt said, even when Kurt rambled on about the arts and fashion; having never had somebody willing to listen to every facet in his wide array of interests, he had milked it for everything it was worth.

By the time Wednesday, the first of September, rolled around they were sick of doing nothing; Hermione and Kurt were too excited about all the learning they were going to do with their full subject load to wait a day longer for term to start, having made in roads on the subject matter. Ron seemed to be more desperate to actually practice magic, having spent the entirety of last year avoiding doing so due to his broken wand; his family’s lottery win hadn’t just allowed them to vacation in Egypt but had afforded Ron the luxury of a brand new wand. Harry’s anticipation was most simple, he wanted to go home to Hogwarts, where he felt he belonged.

Finding a compartment on the Hogwarts Express had been a mission, most were full of students or had small groups of undesirables which simply wouldn’t do as they desired a certain level of privacy. The compartment they had finally settled on had a single occupant, downside was that said occupant was a teacher; Professor RJ Lupin, who was probably going to be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts; and that restricted their conversation considerably.

“So,” Luna, who they had met up with on the platform, said dreamily, “Some weather they’re having Albania.”

Kurt’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly for a moment whilst he tried to figure out what to say, “We’re talking about weather? I take it back, let’s go sit with Seamus and Dean.”

“That’s so arbitrary,” Hermione gave her a scrutinising look, “why would you even bring that up?”

“It’s a weather anomaly isolated to a singular region,” Luna seemed somewhat confused by the questioning, “How are you not interested? The Quibbler published a report, it was on the cover of last week’s issue.”

“I missed that one,” Harry smiled weakly.

“You mean ‘Act of God or Wizards Affecting Weather’?” Kurt raised a brow, he now an avid reader of The Quibbler as Luna sent him copies at frequent intervals.

Luna’s face lit up, “You read it?”

“No,” Kurt scrunched up his nose in distaste, “I skipped that one; I don’t believe in God, I don’t read anything that pertains to him.”

“I don’t believe in God either,” Luna shrugged, “it was dramatic gesture to draw in an audience, The Quibbler suspects that this is the work of Wizards in the area tampering with the weather.”

“How exactly is their weather changing?” Ron asked cautiously.

“They had snow last week after record breaking heat since January,” Luna answered nonchalantly, “The weather has been gradually going sideways in just one region of the country but because it’s unpopulated the matter hasn’t been investigated.”

“Now Luna,” Neville squared up with the younger girl, “How real is this? Is it real like nargles or is it real like we are?”

“Nargles are very real,” Luna countered, “Last year they stole all my quills.”

“Or you lost them all along with your marbles,” Ron scoffed under his breath, earning himself an elbow to the ribs from Kurt.

“Right, Before this conversation gets anymore awkward and somebody gets offended,” Harry interjected, “I overheard Ron’s parents talking about Sirius Black last night.”

“My parents?” Ron evidently didn’t understand what Harry was saying, “why would they talk about Sirius Black?”

Hermione face palmed, “it’s current affairs, everybody in the wizarding world is talking about it.”

“Oh yeah, right,” Ron nodded to show his understanding, “what’d they say?”

“The same things Neville’s gran said,” Harry shrugged the first part off before contorted his face in confusion, “Then this morning Mr Weasley warned me not to go looking for him.”

“I concur,” Kurt nodded.

“Why would you go looking for someone who wants to kill you?” Neville was equally confused.

“This is the boy who went after the Philosopher’s Stone even though he believed that his fully grown and qualified potions master was after it,” Kurt pointed out, “Harry thought he could take on Professor Snape with a first year education he sort of paid attention to, imagine what he thinks he can do with two years of school.”

“I don’t know if anybody has ever told you this,” Harry gave a small giggle, “but you’re a cynical bitch.”

Hermione and the whole compartment laughed loudly, “laughs aside but Kurt is right, we’re not exactly conscious of our safety; last year you guys went into the Chamber of Secrets without a Rooster even though that page on Basilisks says they are killed by the crowing of a rooster.”

“All the rooster had been strangled by Ginny,” Harry said defensively, “That wasn’t our fault and safety Kurt was doing the same thing, he hadn’t even waited for backup.”

“Actually,” Kurt blushed lightly, “I was on my way to tell Professor McGonagall when I was abducted.”

“Like always you wanted to tell an adult,” Ron groaned.

“It’s the wise thing to do,” Kurt countered.

“What was it you once said about authority?” Neville asked with knowing look.

Kurt giggled lightly, “I stand by most of that statement, I might sometimes let the rules fall by the wayside but authority has its place in society.”

“You sound like you’re advertising something,” Hermione laughed lightly but the tail end of her statement was lost as the Hogwarts express came to a sudden dead stop.

“We can’t be there,” Neville furrowed his brow, “Hermione hasn’t said her bit about us arriving soon.”

“We haven’t arrived,” Hermione and Ron peered through the fogged window but neither could see a thing, “Maybe we’ve broken down.”

Outside their compartment they could hear Percy, “Calm down, I’m head boy.”

“I think I see something moving out there,” Ron whimpered, an eerie silence overcame their compartment and they waited to hear something move but nothing came. The rain on the window was replaced by hail but no sound came; the lights went out and Kurt let out a high pitched cream.

“Really Kurt?” Hermione asked him in the dimly lit compartment, he didn’t have to see her condescending expression to know it was there.

“I was startled,” Kurt whispered back, he didn’t know why but talking in full voice felt wrong, “Lumos.”

When the compartment was re-illuminated they saw that the rain was frozen to the window, it was Neville’s distorted squeak that defused the tension, “what was that you were saying about abnormal weather?”

“You see,” Hermione shook her head, “The incidences in Albania are clearly linked to Global Warming rather than wizards altering the weather, that’s why it’s been gradual.”

“Really Hermione?” Ron rolled his eyes, “you pick now to be right?”

“Of course Ro-” her reply was cut short by a faint rattling noise as a tall silhouette appeared in the door window, slowly the door opened and the temperature in the compartment plummeted, “it’s a dementors.”

Hermione’s gasped analysis frightened him but he fumbled his wand, having read of dementors and pointed it at the dementors, “Expecto petronum.” Nothing happened, he expected that but he was still disappointed; the cloaked figure moved closer to where he and Harry were seated. Kurt’s ears were filled with a solid and monotonous mechanical tone as his vision blurred. As Kurt thought he was losing the fight with the blur, a bright white light filled the carriage and a weight fell onto his lap.

When the lights flickered back to life Kurt was able to refocus his thoughts, he saw Professor Lupin standing in the middle of the compartment with his wand still pointed to where the hooded figure had been but the dementors was gone all that remained of that experience was a ringing in Kurt’s ears and the weight in his lap; Harry. His friend had lost consciousness during the debacle but it hadn’t been too grievous a task to get him to come to.

“Are you all alright?” the sandy haired man asked them as he sat back down beside Neville. Kurt kept Harry’s head in his lap, not wanting the boy to fall; he nodded on both their behalves. The man pulled out a familiar looking chocolate bar and broke each of them a piece, “Eat this, it will make you feel better.”

“Eating our feelings,” Kurt nodded grimly and began to slowly nibble at the chocolate, “That sound healthy.”

The man shrugged, “I’m going to go see the driver.”

As Kurt watched the man disappeared, Harry took the opportunity to escape, “Who was that screaming?”

“Kurt,” Ron answered, he didn’t laugh.

“No,” Harry straightened his glasses, “it was a woman, I heard her before I blacked out.”

Hermione shook her head, there was a look of maternal concern on her face, “Nobody screamed then.”

“But I heard-” Harry cut himself off and looked down at his piece of chocolate, “Did any of you faint?”

“No,” they all shook their heads, the train began to move once more.

“I did feel like the happiness had been sucked out of the world,” Ron sounded distant, “like I’d never be cheerful again.”

“Dementors make you relive your worst memories as they feast on your happiness,” Kurt heard someone say before recognising the voice as his own, “I could hear the EKG beeping her flat line.”

“EKG? Flat line?” Ron whispered to Hermione but Kurt could hear, it seemed he could hear everything right now.

“Excuse me,” Kurt got up and walked past Ginny on his way up.


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt was up before his alarm clock went off, this wasn’t exceptionally out of the ordinary for Kurt as this tended to happen to him when he was excited and to be honest it tended to happen to him in general but today it was with reason, it was the first day of school and he couldn’t think of a day he anticipated more than this one each year; he checked the analogue clock on his end table, he had ten minutes. Kurt had concluded that due to extension of his days by him turning back time he would have to stick to his usually loosely followed regimen much more carefully or else his life might fall into disarray; today would be three hours longer than usual, Thursday tied for longest day with Monday and Tuesday. Kurt thought it was rather ironic that he was being thrown right in the deep end on the first day. He took a few deep breaths and considered the worst case scenario, he created a paradox that ended the universe; the chances of that happening were so slim that he threw caution to the wind and got out of bed a whole six minutes earlier.

Kurt donned his running gear in silence and quietly exited the Slytherin Dungeon with Bomballerina hot on his heels, as he navigated the stairs he lazily stretched his upper body and arms.

“Good morning Kurt,” Peeves smiled wickedly when he saw the boy, “Off for a run?”

Kurt nodded and smiled politely, “Like I do every day.” The first time he had tried to run in first year; Peeves had spilled ice cold water on him and that wasn’t something he easily forgot. As Kurt stood stretching and warming up in the darkness that preceded dawn he gave himself a small pep talk for the day ahead: Kurt, you can do this; they didn’t give you that time turner, you earned it and with it the privileges that came with it.

Kurt took off down the road the carriages had brought them up to the castle on the previous night at a leisurely jog, he let all of the worries that plagued him melt away as he listened to the steady beating of his heart, his feet on the road and Bomballerina running beside him. They picked up speed when they reached the gates, turning right and off the road onto a foot path that was headed down the slopes toward the forbidden forest; Kurt was counting, nothing in particular, just counting to keep his mind from the cold air nipping at his face. Kurt suspected that the presence of the dementors on the outskirts of the school grounds had lowered the temperature of the grounds as it was unseasonable cool, he had read that where dementors gather is usually marked by an unnatural coldness.

Kurt kept counting as he ran through the gap between Hagrid’s Hut and the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid, that brought back the previous day when the man had been appointed Professor of Care for Magical Creatures; Kurt had internally questioned the decision because Hagrid had no proper qualification, having been expelled from Hogwarts during his third year, but chose not to voice these concerns so as not to stir up trouble. Kurt ran around the vegetable patch, thinking of last night reminded him of the train; he had become so emotionally overwhelmed after the incident with the dementor, hearing his mother’s flat line had been too much and even after eating the chocolate, which should have helped, he wanted to curl up and die. The train also brought up another thought, he hadn’t been able to cast the Patronus charm; sure it was well beyond his level but that hadn’t stopped him with other spells, he’d split a soul in his second year but he couldn’t manage to form a Patronus?

Kurt was worried once more about dark magic as he skirted the peripheral of the Black Lake, climbing up toward the Greenhouses and the end of his run; when he’d read about the charm it had said that dark wizards couldn’t conjure the Patronus charm, was this an indication to something? No, the text had said that they are sprayed with maggots and he hadn’t been. As he came to rest in the shadow of the Northern Towers he took a deep breath and large gulp of water, cursing himself; the whole point of running was to clear his mind, what was the point if he stressed himself the whole way? He made his way lazily down the transfiguration corridor to the deserted classroom he had come to use in the mornings, Professor McGonagall had felt he needed his own secret space to be artistic; after he’d spilled his life story to her she couldn’t help but melt in the palm of his hand, she had come to adore him as teachers and adults tend to do. There wasn’t anything special about said classroom, it was mostly bare aside from the large mirror and barre she had conjured for him.

Kurt made quick work switching from his running shoes to his slippers; he grabbed the barre and gave a small unheard thanks that he didn’t have to do this in the Slytherin Common room anymore. Kurt stood for a moment; taking a deep breath before moving to First Position, holding it for a moment and going through the motions as he once did. Kurt was aware that he was no longer improving but it would break his heart to just stop and lose that part of his life. He got back into First and flawlessly executed a _Demi Plié_ and back into first; he went through the motions without thinking and trying to make himself believe that by doing so things stayed as they were. Trying to believe that if he could still execute the same dance moves or play the same musical arrangements then he was still the same; if he could still imitate Prince Siegfried as he’d once seen him performed when his mother had taken him to the Russian Ballet’s Swan Lake then maybe she was still with him on some level.

Kurt came back to first position and knew that he was done for the day; it hadn’t worked, his mind was still charged and his thoughts still wondered. Kurt and Bomballerina strolled lazily back to the Slytherin Dungeon nobody was awake yet, it was still too early; the castle appeared to be deserted in the morning hours, something Kurt appreciated, it would remain that way until people started coming down for breakfast at seven. As Kurt waltzed through the common room his morning ritual was cut short by faint sobbing, he peered around the dimly lit dungeon but he did not see anyone at first but then on the black quilted leather couches was a small hunched figure.

“Are you alright?” Kurt’s voice was low, he couldn’t execute maternal as well as Hermione but he tried his best not to scold as he often did.

“Sorry,” the little girl snivelled, wiping the bottom of her nose with the sleeve of her nightgown, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Kurt waved a dismissive hand, “it’s quite alright, might I ask what might be the matter?”

“I just want to go home,” she sobbed violently into her sleeve.

Kurt crept closer and laid a reassuring hand on her hunched back, “Now, if you go home you’ll miss out on all the fun to be had at Hogwarts. You probably haven’t even seen the giant squid and that’s half the experience.”

“I don’t belong here,” she squeaked timidly.

“Everybody feels that way,” Kurt smiled at her, “That’s called being a teenager, it’s one of the side effects of puberty.”

She giggled, “You’re funny.”

“I most certainly am not, take it back,” Kurt feigned insult before he tilted his head and gave the little girl a small smile, “I think you should be in bed, for at least the next twenty minutes.”

She nodded, whispered a quick ‘thank you’ and was off toward the corridor with the girls dormitories; Kurt returned to his own dormitory, taking care not to wake his roommates because no matter how much he loathed each of them, they were less trouble asleep. He began his morning motions ten minutes behind schedule, that didn’t suit him, he retrieved his time turner and took it for a spin before the day began; Kurt turned the dial sixty degrees.

He watched himself move backward out of the room, Bella did the same; he grabbed his stuff and went to shower before he came through the door and caused an unnecessary conundrum. Kurt went about the remainder of his morning ritual at a leisurely pace, he got cleaned up, went through his moisturising routine and got dressed in his uniform with five minutes to spare to pack his school books and grab his to-do list. Kurt’s school bag had been enchanted to be weightless and extended so as to bare the additional weight from his extensive subject load; his use of the term ‘school bag’ was a proximal one as the Fendi tote was so called only for its function, it’s form told a different story.

“Sup,” Kurt received a hearty accompanying pat on the back.

Kurt gave a saccharine smile, “Good morning to you too Ronald. Are you excited to begin the new school year?”

“Not particularly, no,” Ron shrugged dismissively, “If anything I feel like this might just be our least exciting year yet.”

“How can you say that?” Kurt gave him a playful punch as they took their seats at breakfast, “We’re taking elective subject for heaven’s sake, we are one step closer to taking our OWLs. Fred and George are taking their OWLs this year, I wonder what their plan for studying might be.”

“I suspect it will be rather rigorous,” Hermione greeted as she joined them in the nearly empty Great Hall, “Considering the fact that it will be the second most important standardised tests they will write in their lives.”

“Doesn’t really matter what you get,” Ron shrugged, “Charlie said it’s the NEWTs they looks for in job interviews.”

“That’s the one with the bi-” Kurt censored himself, “in Romania, right?”

“Yeah,” Ron gave him a penetrative look, “he says they only looked at his NEWTs for Care for Magical Creatures, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms.”

“Yes but in order to qualify to take NEWT-level subjects you need to do well in your OWLs,” Hermione pointed out, “That’s how people end up in Magical Theory and History of Magic.”

“I resent that,” Kurt raised an interjectory finger, “History of Magic happens to my favourite subject and Magical Theory sounds like a good time.”

“Is this what the beginning of breakfast is always like?” Ron groaned, “Because all you’ve done is made me feel underprepared for the future.”

“You should have paid closer attention to the subject seminars we had before we selected electives,” Kurt scolded.

Ron raised a queer brow, “they covered all of that to NEWT?”

“No,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “but your curiosity would have been piqued as well and maybe you would have gone to the library too.”

“Why are you here this early?” Kurt tilted his head out of curiosity, “Hermione and I haven’t even discussed the latest on the _Vampire Diaries_ front yet.”

“What?”

“These novels we read during the summer but you’re deflecting,” Hermione wagged her finger in time with her scolding.

“I have to give Scabbers his rat tonic every ten hours and it’s creating a bit of a mess with my sleeping patterns,” Ron groaned, “Sometimes it’s really late and others are really early, I had to be up at five this morning.”

“How unfortunate,” Kurt gave a tight lipped smile, “I hope Scabbers recovers soon enough.”

“What happened to donating him to ‘Science’?” Ron asked defensively, “Who is Science anyway?”

“Science isn’t a person,” Hermione giggled, “it’s a series of facts, theories, laws and mathematical equations that explain the way the universe works.”

“The reason we suggested it was so that they could hypothesise theories on his extended lifespan and translate that into a formula that could be used on humans,” Kurt explained.

“Are they trying to donate Scabbers to science again?” Harry plopped himself on the bench opposite the trio.

“Who apparently isn’t a person,” Ron looked affronted, “they want to use him to make maths.”

Harry gave a small laugh, “I know science isn’t a person.”

“How did you know that?” Ron’s eyes looked wide.

“We all grew up with muggles,” Kurt smiled as he spoke, “We learnt science in school.”

Realisation dawned on Ron and he stuffed a celebratory bacon sandwich in his mouth, “I always thought I knew a good bit about muggles but since meeting you three I’m beginning to question that.”

“You know a good deal more than most,” Hermione shrugged before becoming transfixed by something in the direction of the door.

Kurt followed her line of vision but saw nothing, he shrugged ‘What?’

She pointed to herself, ‘me’.

He subtly put his fingers on the side of his face where they pointed to his eye, ‘see?’

She nodded her affirmation.

“Are you two having a private conversation?” Ron barked, “Behind my back?”

“Well,” Hermione fiddled with her fingers nervously, “if you hadn’t sat between us this wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Well maybe…” Ron seemed at a loss for words, “Maybe you two shouldn’t private conversations.”

“Oh please,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “as if you and Harry don’t have non-inclusive and indecipherable conversations about quidditch and other boring things.”

Ron gave him a patronising scoff, “this from the person who enjoys History of Magic, I’m surprised you even understand the theory of being bored.”

“History of Magic is intellectually stimulating,” Kurt countered with a condescending tilt of his head, “the same can’t be said for the brutish activities that excite you.”

“What’s going on here?” Neville lowered himself into the seat beside Harry.

Harry let out a haggard breath, “the Kurt and Ron show.”

Kurt stopped arguing and turned to the dark haired boy, “You got the name right.”

“I resent being billed second,” Ron scowled.

Kurt gaped in confusion, “it’s in alphabetical order.”

“Maybe we should try oldest to youngest,” Ron suggested derisively.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “The pair of you exhaust me.”

“Your face exhausts me,” Ron and Kurt chorused before punctuating their statement with tight-lipped smiles.

Their conversation, or lack thereof, was halted when raucous laughter from the Slytherin table; at this point they noticed that Harry’s usual silence was not the silence they were currently enjoying, the dark haired boy was seething.

“What’s so funny?” Ron looked confused.

“Why don’t you ask Potter?” Draco guffawed at his statement.

Ron gave the Slytherins a condescending look, “Who do you think I’m asking?”

“Malfoy and Pansy were simply re-enacting the debacle with the Dementor from last night,” Harry spoke between gritted teeth.

“I heard Hummel pissed himself,” Pansy threw her head back with a shrill laugh.

Kurt rolled his eyes, barely allowing himself to be baited, “Really? That’s the best you can come up with? I feel like you’ve been laughing about a trivial and fabricated event for longer than anyone of competent intelligence should.”

“What was that Hummel?” Draco sneered getting to his feet.

“Exhibit B,” Hermione and Kurt giggled.

Pansy shot to her feet with a small growl, “Watch it Penis breath!”

“Watch yourself Pugface,” Kurt’s words were small and calculated, they had the attention of his peers as he faced off with dark haired girl.

“The dementors are looming Hummel,” Her teeth were gritted as she spat the words.

“I look at you on a daily basis,” Kurt adjusted an imaginary stray hair, “I’m sure it doesn’t get any uglier.”

There was silence in the great hall as the student body watched on, waiting for the next blow but it didn’t come; Lee Jordan, the Gryffindor fifth year who commentated the Quidditch fixtures, chose this moment to add his two cents, “Kurt, you stay. Pansy, sashay away.”

There were roars of laughter as the girl went running from the Slytherin long table but Kurt didn’t join in the festivities. Kurt slowly got to his feet and grabbed his Fendi, he lightly tapped Hermione on the shoulder to follow. When they came to the doorway, Kurt turned back to the jovial masses, “I’m appalled, my behaviour was deplorable at best but to draw pleasure from the misfortune of others is an indication of severe sadistic dysfunction.”

Kurt and Hermione exited with sufficient haste to see Pansy disappearing around a corner, they followed her with an urgency in each step, catching up to her outside the ground floor girls bathroom of the east wing. Kurt tapped her on the shoulder, “Pansy, you’re a bitch but even you don’t deserve to be humiliated so publicly; for that I’m truly sorry.”

Kurt extended a monogrammed handkerchief, she looked at it as though it were the mark of Satan, “You called me ugly and you think one apologising for it will make us friends.”

“When did I say anything about wanting to be your friend?” Kurt retracted his extended hand with a snap, “I’m not apologising for what I said, I’m sorry you were embarrassed in front of the entire student body.”

“Why?”

“It’s called being civilised,” Hermione added with a roll of her eyes, “Evidently you aren’t familiar with said practice.”

“Shut up you bucktoothed mudblood,” Pansy snapped the words so quickly that both Hermione and Kurt were caught unawares.

Kurt moved to speak but Hermione tapped him on the shoulder and spoke in his place, “Listen here you stupid little girl,” her voice was a low and menacing whisper, “if you call me that again I’m going to slit your throat and feed you entrails to Crookshanks.”

For a moment Kurt thought the words to not only be out of character, but unnecessary, before remembering Hermione’s experience at the Slytherin long table whilst in disguise; the things those girls had said to her about both Hermione and him were enough to convince Kurt to the necessity of the words.

The pair turned to leave, parting the sea of Pansy minions waiting. Suddenly, they realising that she’d gotten the gall to insult Hermione from her misconception that there was power in numbers; Hermione looked each girl in the eye angrily, “That goes for the lot of you.”

~0~

Once their anger had subsided, not that it took very long, Kurt and Hermione had decided to start the day in step with Harry and Ron by attending Divination in first period, not wanting to disappear and appear tired or somehow different; they simply couldn’t explain a trip to the bathroom that revolutionary. Finding their way to the seventh floor of the North Tower had taken a bit of work, considering they never had reason to go above the second floor in the north easterly region of the castle; they had received instruction from Angelina Johnson to ascend the tower till they came to a ladder that led into a hatch in the ceiling. They had insisted Ron and Harry climb in first, then Kurt had kept watch for boys whilst Hermione climbed; he had made a mental note to complain about impracticality of this entrance hatch to the necessary power.

The Divination classroom looked less like a classroom than any he’d seen before, Kurt felt that even his piano class seemed more scholastic than this one; the classroom was draped lavishly with a multitude of coloured fabrics that dimmed the light and created a tent like atmosphere, there were round tables with mismatched tea sets in the centre of the five or so round tables with floral overlays and four seats. Kurt and Hermione had seated themselves at the table adjacent to that which Ron and Harry were seated at, as they had found that the pair of boys had joined an already partially occupied table with Seamus and Dean.

“It’s has been a good day so far,” Padma placed her bag on the table as she seated herself beside Kurt, “Don’t you say?”

Hermione shook her head, “this is our first lesson of the day.”

“How were Ancient Runes and Arithmancy?” Kurt tilted his head sweetly.

Padma shrugged, “there seemed to be some overlap with the subject selection seminar but otherwise it was a slow start.”

The three let out dissatisfied groans simultaneously as though they had been doing so their whole lives, at this moment a thin woman who was bent under the weight of the multiple chunky necklaces she had strung around her neck came into the classroom from the back, she stood in the doorway with big poofy hair and spectacles that magnified her eyes to insectoid proportions observing the class. The woman wafted between the curved arrangement of round tables in the semi-conically shaped classroom and spoke in a high and modulus voice, “Welcome, my children, to Divination; an incubus of the beyond, you have chosen to journey into yourself and open your inner eye.”

Neville groaned as he slumped into the seat beside Hermione, “Why do I get the idea this is going to be a waste of my time?”

“I am Professor Trelawney and together we shall cast ourselves into the future,” her voice rung at the end of that sentence for a moment, she had her hands extended toward them as though expecting applause.

“Because she’s crazy,” Hermione rolled her as she thumbed through her copy of _Unfogging the Future_ aimlessly.

Professor Trelawney lowered her arms with a tired breath, “This term we will learning Tessomancy, the art of reading tea leaves.” She wafted back to the single-seater round table in the centre of the room, “For those of you who have the sight this will be a breeze but for those of you who don’t,” She seemed to look at their table as she relayed the tail end, “I’m afraid books can only take you so far.”

“Did she just?” Padma left the question open ended but they knew what she meant as Kurt and Hermione let out chorused confirmative reply.

“Now, Pour and drink your tea,” Professor Trelawney gestured to the tea sets that centre in the middle of each of their tables, she then laid a hand on Neville’s shoulder with a loud clunk from the chunky enamel bracelets she wore, “Be a darling and use the striped China when you’ve broken that one, I’m rather fond of those with the pink flowers and as with all good things they are in short supply.”

“Wait,” Kurt raised his hand before she could waft off, “If you know he’s going to break that cup then why would you put it out?”

Professor Trelawney clicked her tongue in time with the clicking of metal on metal produced by her many necklaces as she shook her head, “time stretches out before us like a country road, I can see the mountains and cities but I cannot tell you distance and particulars, thus they are unavoidable and hence comes into play inevitability.”

Hermione furrowed her brow in deep though, “Basically you’re telling us that divination is an off scale map?”

“Why not put him on an alternate route?” Padma queried with a tilt of her head.

“Yes,” Hermione snapped to attention as she caught the girl’s wavelength, “put him on a metaphorical bypass?”

Professor Trelawney wagged a patronising finger, “Yes, but as soon as he returned to the normal road he would reencounter the obstacle he was avoiding.”

“Let’s drop this terrible metaphor,” Kurt shook the confusion from his head, “You’re telling us that if you put those cups in storage then Neville would break every cup in this classroom till he ended up forced to use that one and then break it?”

As though relieved, Professor Trelawney let out a sigh that relaxed her body and deflated her hair slightly, “Yes child.”

“In that case,” Neville shrugged and threw the cup on the ground, where it shattered into a hundred tiny shards. Professor Trelawney looked scandalised, “Now, which one was I supposed to break next?”

She blinked vaguely a couple of times before moving around the class and encouraging her students to drink the scalding tea at speed. By the time he managed to finish his tea, Kurt had a dissatisfied scowl on his face; it was not chai and there was no lemon.

“Now once you’ve drank your tea to completion, I want you to swap cups with the person sitting opposite to you,” She nodded an agreement to her own statement, “With reference to the textbook, read the tea leaves.”

Kurt took Hermione’s cup and opened his textbook to the table of symbols, he looked deeply into the cup and nodded at frequent intervals; he grabbed Hermione’s hand as if to deliver bad news, “my child, it not good.”

“What is it?” Neville’s eyes grew and he leaned in with his curiosity piqued.

“I see flossing, as soon as this lesson is over because you drank bagless tea without a strainer and it’s probably stuck in your braces,” Hermione gasped reprehensibly as if she’d received the worst possible news whilst her table giggled loudly.

“Well,” She looked into Kurt’s cup and shook her head, “I see a ‘cross’ and an ‘apple’ representing ‘trials and suffering’ and ‘knowledge’ respectively; I think it’s because you are going to struggle to learn something useful in this class.”

There was a second round of laughter from their table, Professor Trelawney gave them a disapproving look. Neville grabbed Padma’s cup and looked deeply disturbed then leaned in to show the contents to Kurt and pretended to whisper something in his ears to which Kurt gave a solemn nod. Neville shook his head and put down the cup, “In your future Padma, and I’ve corroborated this with Kurt, I see… a cute boy.”

“Cute boy?” Professor Trelawney crossed her arms which caused an angry clanking sound as her bracelets collided, “And what, might I ask does that mean?”

She gestured for them to hand her their cups, First she looked at Hermione, “What did he tell you?” Hermione nervously repeated Kurt’s prediction, “Nonsense, this clearly shows that sadness and loneliness lie ahead of you”

Hermione’s jaw fell open as Professor Trelawney turned to Kurt, he relayed Hermione’s reading to which she responded by shrugging, “the darkness within you will make itself known soon enough.”

“I’m sure Voldemort’s Divination professor said the same thing to him,” Kurt rolled his eyes.

“Is your Grandmother well?” She turned to Neville as she grabbed the cup from Padma, she shrugged and then turned to Padma after receiving her cup, “Cute boy? Hmm… that’s exactly what the cup says, ten points to Ravenclaw.”

“I made the reading,” Neville squealed in bewilderment.

Professor Trelawney nodded, “Ah, yes, five points to Gryffindor as well.” She flourished her robes as she turned to Lavender, grabbing her hand, “that which you’ve been dreading most will happen on Friday the fifteenth of October.”

She then wafted on to Ron, “Your aura is pulsing, are you in the beyond?”

“If he was sitting next to Kurt something would be throbbing,” Hermione joked, earning herself a kick under the table from Kurt.

Professor Trelawney ignored her and approached the table of Gryffindor boys, “What do the leaves say?”

“Well…” Ron, whilst supressing a violent blush brought on by Hermione’s teasing, turned the cup over in his hands as though trying to figure out which way up was, “Harry’s got a cross.” The boy flipped through his textbook, “That’s ‘trials and suffering’ and the sun which is ‘happiness’, so you're going to suffer but you're going to be happy about it?”

Professor Trelawney gestured for him to hand her the cup, “Yes, suffering but you’ll be the better for it,” she mumbled this, not really speaking to anyone but suddenly she stopped and dropped the cup, “my dear, you have the Grimm.”

“What’s the Grimm?” Seamus turned to their table and all four turned their heads.

“ _The Grimm_ ,” A heavy set dark skinned Gryffindor boy known simply as ‘Bem’ read a low raspy voice, “ _is an omen of death taking the form of a giant spectral black dog._ ”

“In future,” Dean coughed nervously as he spoke, “Can we have someone with a more cheerful voice read that? That shit was dark Bem.”

~0~

Kurt and Hermione had been quite surprised when they entered the Muggle Studies classroom, the last time he’d been in this classroom it hadn’t been very different from every other classroom at Hogwarts but it now resembled the classrooms he hadn’t seen since his departure from UCS; there were two columns of two rows of standard school grade double seater desks and a fifth that was centred in the third row, there was a large desk at the front of the classroom and a blackboard. Beside the desk stood Dr Rhodes and a tall woman with auburn hair that was pulled into a loose bun.

“Take your seats,” Dr Rhodes smiled brightly and flipped her golden locks as she waited for them to find their way, “This is Professor Charity Burbage, she is your new Muggle Studies Professor after the departure of Professor Shafiq at the end of last year. Professor Burbage is from America and has a little something called MPD, do any of you know what that is?”

Hermione’s hand shot up, “Multiple Personality Disorder.”

“Very good, ten points to Gryffindor,” Dr Rhodes gave her a thumbs up, “Now I just want you to all know that it’s perfectly okay, her personalities are semi-integrated and will not hinder her teaching abilities; from what I’ve heard they will improve them.” The class was silent from a mixture of awe and disinterest, “Okay, you have fun.”

And with that, Kurt’s scholastic role model was gone. Ten pairs of eyes came to rest on the thin woman and she shrunk under the gaze, “Good afternoon, my name is Charity Burbage and I’m the original or at least I think I am.” Nobody laughed at the joke, “This is my standard appearance but I am a metamorphmagus and so each of my identities has the pleasure of their own appearance. Before I begin my lesson I will give you a rundown of the syllabus and your teachers as is only fair: On Thursdays I will teach Social Sciences which will include History, Geography, Politics and Economics of muggle society. On a Monday you can expect a tall, thin, pray mantis like, narcissistic man by the name of Dr Sheldon Cooper to teach you Physical Science, Chemistry and Biology; thanks to the patriarchal society in which we live I have two male identities which really only serves to set the woman’s movement back. Tuesdays will be for English, French and Art with Mr Douglas Newman but he will insist you call him ‘Hector’; I apologise in advance for his less than savoury behaviour. Finally, we have Wednesday; with the only person you might get sympathy from and that is Mrs Bobby Markowitz, your Accountancy, Home and Business Economics teacher. Are there any questions?”

Seven of the ten hands in the classroom shot up immediately; the exceptions were Finn, Ernie and Justin who seemed more interested in comparing their biceps. Overwhelmed by the positive response she first called on Mandy Bracklehurst, the blond haired Ravenclaw girl introduced herself and gave the audience a condescending smile, “What can we expect in terms of coherence and consistency in the testing and grading of this subject?”

“You will be very busy but I shan’t be bombarding you with tests and assignments,” Professor Burbage then drew a perfect circle on the board by hand, “your marks for third and fourth year will be worked out as follows; first your total divided into four equal parts of twenty five percent, within that there will be three-fifths exam and two-thirds classwork which results in a sixty-forty split.”

Many of the hands went down, she next called on Kurt, “Hi, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel; I’m alright with your disorder and I have no qualms because Dr Rhodes says it isn’t an issue.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming along,” She gave a small nervous laugh.

“I have some reservations about you teaching so many different subjects,” Kurt spoke politely, not wanting her to feel he was questioning her credibility, “What qualifies you to do so?”

“I have a masters in Social Science; my mother after whom I modelled Bobby, was a High School Economics and Accountancy teacher as well as a homemaker all my life; my ex-husband had a PhD in Physics and when he left me, all that garbage he’d told me and the scientific journals he left behind formed Dr Cooper; Hector is based on the character from the play ‘History Boys’ and knows everything he knows.” She smoothed down the lapels on her back blazer, “I’ve also lived as a muggle outside of school for the last forty-seven years.”

There were no hands left up, she cleaned the board before turning to the class, “Today we will be discussing muggle history in a free flowing discussion of ideas and I implore you to participate. Who has been the most influential figure in muggle history? Substantiate.”

“Vladimir Zworykin,” Finn shouted out before turning to high-five his friends in agreement.

“Firstly, I never thought I’d need to tell you this but just because I don’t expect you to raise your hands doesn’t mean that I want to be shouted at; there are only ten of you, speak normally,” She gave Finn a disapproving look, “What makes you think that particular man was most influential?”

“Well,” Finn scratched the back of his neck nervously, “he invented the iconoscope on which BBC was first broadcasted, he revolutionised modern television.”

“As significant as that may be,” Kurt gave a patronising smile, “I doubt it’s nearly as important as the work of Sir Charles Algernon Parsons, his work extends to but is not limited to his significant contribution to the electrical engineering field; he invented the steam turbine and worked as an engineer on dynamo and turbine design.”

“Cute,” Hermione gave him a small flip of her hair, “But he’s not exactly Gloria Steinem.”

Kurt bowed his head with a roll of his eye, “Please don’t give me that ‘Woman’s movement’ thing.”

“I’m sorry” Padma’s mouth fell open as she gave Kurt a scrutinising look, “but how is the feminist movement not one of the most important events in history?”

“As important as it may be,” Anthony countered, “it’s too recent to qualify her as the most influential figure of all time, her impact hasn’t been seen to fruition.”

“That is such a misogynistic thing to say,” Hermione squealed angrily.

“It’s a valid thing to say,” Professor Burbage countered, earning a scowl from Hermione, “Remember that the key to viewing the past clearly is objectivity, influence on a worldwide scale takes time and is unlikely to have happened in recent history.”

“Shakespeare!” Justin exclaimed triumphantly, the three Hufflepuff boys high-fived once more, “Almost everybody has read his works, all over the world his written works are renowned; they transcend the bounds of the cultural divide and time.”

Anthony, Padma, Kurt and Hermione’s mouths hung open; they were not expecting anything other than the odd joke from the circle of Hufflepuff boys and they were now recognising them for the academic threats that they were.

“Plato,” Hermione tried to argue but shook her head, “No, that’s not right.”

“Napoleon,” Terry Boot, a dark haired Ravenclaw boy, tried.

“Jesus Christ!” Anthony looked confused by his words but then set about trying to substantiate it before he could lose the platform he’d created for himself, “He, like, influence hundreds of people in his lifetime but also, like, created an entire religious movement.”

“Wouldn’t God supersede him?” Padma tried her hand, “Like, he’s the big cheese.”

“But there’s no definitive proof that either of those people existed,” Kurt countered, trying to gain control and intellectual prowess over his peers in an attempt to impress Professor Burbage, “If we’re going down the religious route, within reason then it would have to be Abraham.” There were a couple of blank stares and Professor Burbage egged him on, “well, he’s ‘Father Abraham’ the supposed originator of the three most prominent religions on earth. He influenced Judaism, Christianity and Islam, observed by fifty-seven percent of the world’s population; furthermore, even people who don’t observe these religions adhere to the lessons that spring boarded from his teachings.”

“Oh yeah?” Ernie raised a brow, “Like what?”

“Like circumcision,” Kurt narrowed his gaze and the boy blushed violently, “A clear example of a procedure he was one of the first people recorded to have practiced that is still done today, even people who don’t follow Abrahamic Monotheism do it.”

“You are nasty,” Finn wrinkled his nose at him.

“Are we all in agreement?” Professor Burbage looked out them, “Well done, ten points to Slytherin.”

“Is he always right?” Anthony rolled his eyes.

“You get used to it,” Finn, Hermione and Kurt chorused.

Professor Burbage cleared her throat, “the significance of this exercise has been to make you aware that history as we know it was created by influence; both positive and negative. These historic events influenced where our countries are divided, the way we create policy and laws, and the way we feel about these things.” She smiled from where she stood stiffly with her hands tightly clasped over her naval, “All of these big people and even the little ones who’ve lived their lives are summed up in two words in social science; people and places.”

~0~

Hermione, Kurt and Padma had made quick haste of making their way back an hour and down to their final lesson of what had been a long day; they were on their way to Care for Magical Creatures, their ninth lesson of the day. Kurt’s _Monster Book of Monsters_ was purring in his arms as they joined Harry and Ron, they were gushing over a pamphlet of broomsticks and exclaiming excitedly at the prospects each would have for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

“That was quick,” Ron furrowed his brow as the three manipulators of time took stride with the pair.

“We went to the bathroom, not the other side of the world,” Hermione had become practised in the art of suavity during their tenure at Hogwarts, she could ease anyone’s qualms in an effort to distract from whatever it was she was up to; it was the effortlessness and subtlety that impressed Kurt most, to some degree he envied her for it.

“No need to get catty,” Ron held his hands up defensively.

“You're lucky we're only getting catty,” Hermione had switched to scolding now, “I think it’s rather creepy that you're monitoring our bathroom breaks.”

“I’m not monitoring your bathroom breaks,” Pavarti and Lavender walked by as Ron exclaimed his defence, he blushed violently, “I’m not monitoring their bathroom breaks.”

“Okay,” Padma nodded slowly, “You guys are weird, I think I’m going to go with my sister.”

They waved her off, Kurt gave a small laugh, “She thinks this is weird, she wouldn’t last a day with Dad and Carole.”

“Worst week of my life,” Harry and Hermione chorused with a shudder.

Ron raised a brow, “What happened?”

“They’re all nice,” Harry began, “Luring you in with the alcohol and the drugs but then BAM!”

“They make you go shopping with Kurt,” Hermione shook her head, “also, there are no boundaries in that house.”

“You guys,” Kurt chuckled lightly at their reaction, “It’s not that bad, they only snuck away to have sex like… twice.”

Hermione gave him a look that said ‘really?’ whilst Harry simply narrowed his eyes, “It’s because they announced every other time.”

“Okay,” Ron looked at him with wide eyes, “Your parents sound awesome and that explains why Finn is such a cool chap but what’s your story?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Kurt stopped dead in his tracks and gave him a glare of death.

“No offense but you’re…” Ron trailed off, trying to find a way to say what he meant without offending Kurt.

“Anal Retentive,” Hermione said for him with an eye roll.

“You’re so anal, you’ll never get to oral,” Harry joked.

“That makes no sense,” Kurt raised his index finger, “According to Sigmund Fraud ‘Oral’ comes before ‘Anal’.” Kurt realised how loudly he was speaking when he saw all the eyeballs that were on him, he also hadn’t realised that they’d come to the clearing outside Hagrid’s hut, “Bite me.”

“I could have told you that oral comes before anal,” Seamus joked.

There was rowdy applause and laughter from his peers, Kurt could feel the blush rising from his collar as he stepped up to the sandy haired boy, he whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, “it would be more fun if you showed me.”

There were wolf whistles all around as Seamus paled speechlessly, Kurt gave a small smile but didn’t move from within the boy’s personal space; if he backed away then that might be misconstrued as further weakness, the dementor incident on the Hogwarts Express had already used up too big a portion of his integrity and he couldn’t stand to lose anymore. Seamus fell back, Dean gave him a pat on the back but this didn’t stop him from laughing out raucously.

“Do you have to do that?” Ron gave him a disapproving look through hooded lids.

“Whatever do you mean?” Kurt tilted his head as he turned his fury book over in his hands in an effort to figure out how to read it.

Ron shrugged, “Isolate yourself from everyone? You could have just laughed.”

Kurt gave a piercing look as an awkward silence hung over them, it was Harry who killed the silence, “So divination this morning, apparently I’m going to die this year.”

Hermione took the cue and moved with the new subject, “Professor McGonagall told me that Professor Trelawney predicts the death of a student every year and nobody ever dies. Besides, Divination is a woolly subject.”

“I don’t know,” Kurt shrugged as he moved on from Ron’s accusation, “She did predict a cute boy in Padma’s future and she was sitting next to Finn in Arithmancy.”

“That was before Divination,” Hermione nodded slowly, “and she said that I’d be sad and alone.”

“And I’m not planning to die for the next hundred and fifteen odd years,” Kurt’s eye went wide, “I’m not leaving you anytime soon so that’s not about to happen.”

“Could we backtrack just a moment,” Ron held up an interjectory finger, “Arithmancy? That’s in the same time as divination; that would mean you were in two places at once, that’s impossible.”

“Really?” Kurt gave him a look over the frame of his glasses, “There was a thousand year old snake in the basement and you want to talk to me about impossible?”

“Besides,” Hermione rolled her eyes at them, “how could someone be in two places at once?”

“Well, it migh-” Ron’s protestations were drowned out by the same mouth trumpeting Hagrid had done when he’d showed his pumpkin patch; Kurt and most of the class lazily turned to attention at the call to order. Hagrid stood before them at the edge of the dark forest, with him there was a large beast that was rather distinctive in appearance; it looked to be the largest grey eagle Kurt had known to exist up to where the shoulder joint of its talons and its large wings met, from there it was a silver stallion.

“Good morning, I’m Rubeus Hagrid and this is Buckbeak,” Hagrid gestured for the students to move closer, “Okay, come closer I’m not going to bite you. Stop the talking if you don’t mind. Right, I have a good treat for you if you’ll follow me.”

Hagrid led the class into the Forbidden Forest, Susan Bones’ eyes grew wide as she pointed ominously into the thicket of trees “In there?”

“I thought we weren’t allowed in there,” A second Hufflepuff girl shrugged.

Hagrid paid the passive protestations of the students no mind as he came to a clearing adjacent to a pen that was filled with more creatures like the one that was following him around, He gestured to the magnificent beast, “Does anyone here know what Buckbeak here is?”

Kurt’s hand shot up, he noted that he was the only one and blushed slightly; Hagrid called on him, “A hippogriff.”

“Somebody’s read their textbook,” Hagrid gave him a smile, “five points to Slytherin. Open your books to page… what was it Kurt?”

“I read _Fantastic Beasts_ ,” Kurt blushed as he nervously stroked the pelt of his text book, “I don’t know how to get this open.”

Hagrid gave a bewildering look to the group at large, “have any of managed to open your textbooks?”

“If you can’t get the nerd squad to do it, it’s unlikely that the rest of us will have managed,” Lavender giggled, breaking the silence that had washed over the class.

Kurt rolled his eyes, Hagrid gave a disappointed look to the masses and consulted a piece of crumpled up parchment from his pocket, “Stroke the spine, it’s on page fourty-nine.”

Hagrid disappeared for a moment whilst the class at large attempted to open their textbooks; when Kurt stroked the spine he received a coo and purr in reply as the _Monster Book of Monsters_ ’s teeth retracted and the pages fell open. Some students, namely Neville, battled to soothe their books sufficiently.

“I think they’re funny,” Hermione commented as she dropped her large backpack.

“Oh yes,” An arrogantly smooth voice that could only belong to Draco called from behind them, “They’re terribly funny, really witty.” The sarcasm in his tone was evident and on either side his lackeys were laughing assuredly, “God this place has gone to the dogs, I can’t believe Dumbledore has this oaf teaching classes; wait till my father hears about this.”

As he often did when dealing with Draco Malfoy, Harry was seething, “Shut up Malfoy.”

Draco and company laughed; the blond boy handed off his messenger bag and stepped up to Harry, towering over him but that wasn’t hard to do. Suddenly Draco’s arrogant smile fell and was replaced by a look of falsified fear, “Dementors, Dementors!”

The class whipped their heads around to where Draco had pointed but Kurt kept his gaze fixed on the boy, “The approach of a dementor is always preceded by a drop in temperature, does no one read?”

The trio of Slytherin louts pulled the hoods of their robes over their heads and made accompanying ghoulish sounds; Harry stood, routed on the spot, fuming. Hermione had to pull him away to prevent a scene.

“I can’t believe they are still doing that,” Kurt crossed his arms angrily over his chest, “I think I might have to burn Draco’s face again.”

“Didn’t you almost get expelled for that?” Neville asked in an airy voice.

Ron looked him over and shook his head, this drew Kurt’s attention to the boy’s dishevelled appearance, “You were supposed to stroke it,” The red haired boy shook his head even as he spoke, “Should I take you to the hospital wing?”

Neville shook his head, “just this jersey and my hair are ruined, since Finn is the only person who thinks it is sexy pushed back I think I’ll survive in his absence.”

“Gather round,” Hagrid returned with what looked to be a fur scarf at first glance but was actually dead ferrets strung around his neck, he threw one at Buckbeak before turning to the class at large, “Well, first thing you want to know about Hippogriffs is that they are proud creatures,” Hagrid began his explanation on the subject, Kurt couldn’t follow where on the page the man was working from but didn’t make a fuss of it, “they can be quite easily offended and as a general rule, you do not want to insult a hippogriff because it may be the last thing you do.”

Kurt gave a bewildered look as he questioned whether the presence of a dangerous creature that was easily offended was a wise idea in the presence of the most insulting age group known to man or beast, “Now who wants to say hello?” Everybody in the class took a few steps back, Neville hid behind a rock, everyone that is except Harry, “Well done Harry.”

Harry realised for the first time that everyone had left him out on the ledge alone, “Thanks guys.”

Neville pushed him forward, “off you go.”

“Move slow,” Hagrid warned, “You can come closer to him.”

Harry took a step so small that he barely looked to have moved, “Enough?”

“Again,” Hagrid gestured with a nudge of his head, Harry took an even smaller step, “Okay, now bow nice and low.” Harry did as he was told, “If he bows back then you can go over and touch him, if he doesn’t… we’ll get to that when it comes to that.”

“That sounds safe,” Kurt raised a brow; he got a disapproving look from Ron and an understanding one from Hermione.

Harry bowed, the hippogriff flapped his wings angrily with an indignant shriek, “Back off Harry.”

Harry slowly backed away with a loud curse, he stayed bowed as he attempted a retreat. Buckbeak looked to calm down, he looked quizzically at Harry for a moment and then bowed his head. Hagrid looked to release a large sigh, “Okay come on and touch him.”

Harry took a deep breath and slowly moved closer to Buckbeak, Harry held out his hand and Buckbeak met him halfway. Hagrid placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders, and then in one swift movement he had placed Harry on Buckbeak’s back, “Now you get to ride him.”

Kurt’s eyes grew wide as he watched Buckbeak take off at a run and took off into the sky, it didn’t take long for the pair to disappear into the clouds. Hagrid watched the spot where Harry and Buckbeak had last been seen for a moment before turning to the remaining students, “Come along.”

Hagrid ushered the class into the pen that housed nine more hippogriffs, he started picking off students to repeat the bowing ritual with the remaining hippogriffs; Neville elected to practice with the rock he had been crouching behind, Kurt chose to abstain whilst Ron and Hermione volunteered when no one else would. Hagrid’s first lesson seemed to be coming along well, Kurt’s doubts were alleviated when Harry returned unharmed from his excursion.

“You’re not scary at all,” Kurt knew that those words from Draco Malfoy were a disaster in the making. Kurt, along with the rest of the class, turned to watch Draco antagonise Buckbeak, “You’re just overgrown chicken.”

“Malfoy,” Hagrid took off across the clearing at speed, “Stop, stand very still.”

“Still?” Draco scoffed, “I’m not scared of this, if hippogriffs are scary then this one’s the runt of the litter.”

Buckbeak flapped his wings angrily and squawked at a pitch that sent shivers up Kurt’s back, the hippogriff swiped its talon at Draco and he blocked with his forearm. The large creature, which had quickly gone from majestic to terrifying, attempted to swoop down and head-butt Draco but Hagrid came in and with his great size tackled the hippogriff to the ground; he pinned it to the ground whilst Vincent and Gregory carried Draco from the now monstrously screeching hippogriff. Hagrid threw a dead ferret off to the side and made great haste over to where Draco lay injured on the ground, he observed the wound and looked unsure how to advance.

“Oh, it’s killed me,” Draco sobbed violently, “My father will hear of this.”

“He needs to be taken to the hospital wing,” Hermione suggested.

“Right,” Hagrid nodded rigorously, “it’s best I do it, I’m the teacher.”

Kurt and Hermione exchanged looks that simply said one thing, ‘Disaster’.


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt, who had come to feel neutral about his rooming situation over time, had come to dread returning to his room in the week that followed the incident with Buckbeak; Draco had been released from the hospital wing the following day with a fractured radius, the boy had since laid in his bed and loudly perpetuated the idea that he was at deaths door, and going as far as to receive visits and gifts from well-wishers and first years who were bullied into doing so by Gregory and Vincent. After frequent complaining and pressuring from a miserable Kurt, who had earned a detention for his efforts, Professors McGonagall and Snape had finally succumbed and nudged the boy back into normal school life; he taken this as an opportunity to tell an overly exaggerated and dramatized version of that Care for Magical Creatures lesson to anyone who would listen, this was usually followed by an assurance that his father would see Buckbeak put down and Hagrid on the curb; this part had Kurt worried.

On the opposite end of the spectrum there was school, Kurt had been having a pleasant week and was thriving under the pressure of his thirty hour days; he supposed that it was the frequent napping and ten hours of sleep he’d allocated to himself that had him walking clouds. At the present moment he wasn’t walking on clouds, far from it as he was serving a Sunday morning detention; it wasn’t that part that had dampened his mood, as a matter of fact when he was in first year he had served detention almost every day with Professor Snape but this wasn’t Professor Snape’s detention. Professor Lupin seemed to be taking all of Snape’s detentions this year, at least this is what he told Kurt when he asked to reschedule.

Detention with Professor Lupin was a thorough waste of time, the man’s lax attitude when it came to discipline had Kurt spending his morning ‘doing whatever made him happy’. Normally Kurt wouldn’t mind making himself happy but the present company made that rather difficult, Fred and George had taken this opportunity to catch up on days gone by and prevent him from reading.

“If we’re going to talk then we’re going to discuss your OWLs,” Kurt interjected as they were recounting one of the pranks they had played on Ron over the summer.

“We’re going to talk alright,” George wiggled his brow as he spoke, this shrouded him in an air of mischief.

Fred mirrored the look perfectly without having seen it, “But we’re not talking about school.”

“We’d like to carry on discussing how we torture Ron,” George leaned back in his seat to Kurt’s left.

Fred leaned forward on Kurt’s right, “but if you're in love with him and can’t bear to hear it.”

“We’ll understand,” They chorused with each placing their head on his shoulders and batting their eyelashes.

Kurt rolled his eyes, “As I recall it was him who claimed ownership of me, not the other way around.”

“Kurt,” they chorused with a shake of their heads, “You may just be the one thing colder than Oksana Baiul.”

“You guys are too good to me,” Kurt wiped an imaginary tear away.

“Let’s discuss this,” Fred placed a newspaper in front of him.

“ _The Daily Prophet_? Really?” Kurt shot each of them a disappointed look, “it’s not even good.”

“Yes but this article by Rita Skeeter on page six is riveting,” George opened the paper to the society pages.

“Oh look, it’s me,” Kurt smiled as he looked down at a black and white picture of himself that was striking poses and fixing its hair, “don’t I look cute in my uniform? I think this may be one of Colin Creevy’s pictures.”

“Yes but read the article,” Fred urged.

George scoffed, “you won’t be so happy that the picture got your likeness so well.”

Kurt cleared his throat and began to read the article out loud, “ _Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, once an unknown young wizard, has risen to notoriety amongst his peers for his cut-throat take-no-prisoners attitude. This academically gifted young Slytherin may appear to be just your run of the mill teenager but underneath that exterior of beauty and vanity is a sadist._ ” Kurt’s eyes shot open, “Wait, what?”

“There’s more,” Fred urged him to read on.

“ _This troubled young man has displayed a propensity for the dark arts as well as unhealthy obsession with peers Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory. Sources reveal that Hummel has used his superior knowledge to manipulate his way into the lives of fore mentioned students, the source further tells this writer that Hummel has frequently paralleled himself to He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named and claimed to be a descendent of the Dark Lord._ ” Kurt’s jaw hung open, “Why did no one show me this at breakfast? I didn’t say that, other people said that; I wasn’t even happy about it.”

“You’re not done,” George egged him on.

“ _Whilst a younger Hummel might have gotten away with such a claim, this reporter says nay; the handsome young man seems to have grown to bare the striking good looks that many of us in Britain have come to associate with members of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Unnamed sources have led this writer to believe that Hummel is in fact the lovechild of escaped mass murderer Sirius Black III and then long-time girlfriend Emmeline Vance,_ ” Kurt slammed the paper on the desk in frustration and let out what he might if it hadn’t been as high as it was.

“Apparently this Emmeline Vance lady refused to comment,” George laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“So for now you’re the son of a mass murderer,” Fred joked.

“I really can’t bring myself to care,” Kurt shrugged dismissively, “After enough therapy my parentage has stopped mattering to me, I mostly just wanted to blame my parents for their terrible genes.”

Kurt chose not to mention that with that blame came his cancer and his mother’s death, he didn’t tell them that he longed to place this misfortune at the feet of another.

“Don’t worry,” George smiled reassuringly.

“We don’t believe a word of it,” Fred stated flatly.

“None of it is true,” George argued.

“Well, there were a few good compliments in there that were true,” Kurt argued back, “like she called me academically gifted, beautiful, vain, handsome and she said I possessed superior knowledge.”

“There’s no convincing us!” Fred protested.

“It’s all a lie!” George exclaimed.

“We should burn it,” the pair suggested before beginning to chant, “Burn, burn, burn.”

“But it’s such a good picture,” Kurt held the paper to his chest, away from both boys, “And how many times does one get their picture in the paper?”

“You’ve been in the paper every year since you started here,” George raised a brow.

Fred continued in the same quizzical tone, “You were on the cover in your first year.”

“Yes but that was with everyone else,” Kurt knew that it was all tall order trying to get people to understand how his mind worked, it had taken him a couple of years to understand it himself, “It’s a good picture and the article, though defaming to an extent, views me in a positive light as genius of sorts and someone worth gossiping salaciously about.”

“I didn’t think it was possible for somebody to be so self-absorbed or so in love with themselves that they would willingly take criticism and insult if it were served with a side compliment,” A voice said from behind them.

Kurt understood that it was early in the year and detention was kind of empty but he hadn’t been expecting anyone to be listening to their conversation, “I didn’t know there was anybody here not just rude enough to eavesdrop on our private conversation but who also possessed the gall to comment, I guess we were both wrong but that happens when you assume things about people.” Kurt turned to see who stare down the rude character but shrank when he found himself facing Professor Lupin, the man cleared his throat and Kurt looked away, “this is awkward for me.”

“As it should be,” the man nodded with a devilish smile that made his weathered face look like it had once been handsome before the cruelty of time had aged it, “I wasn’t eavesdropping, simply came over to remind you that this is detention and though there are four of you here; you are still expected to at least whisper as though you were actually being punished, people are trying to sleep.” Kurt looked at the stoner Hufflepuff sixth year sleeping near the front, “you can be surprised when I received a lesson on manners in my own classroom.”

“We get it,” Kurt tilted his head condescendingly, “We’re being loud, I’m self-absorbed and you apparently know better. I think we have our basis covered.”

Professor Lupin had come around to rest on the desk opposite to Kurt’s seat, “You really have no idea how to talk to people, do you?”

“I did the whole blind respect thing and it back fired,” the man raised a brow and his forehead crinkled, Kurt noted that it wasn’t completely unattractive, “our last Defence Against the Dark Arts professor professed his superior knowledge and intellect, he even claimed to know where the Chamber of Secrets was and what beast lay inside; imagine my surprise when Harry Potter comes to save me instead of the media darling Gilderoy Lockhart, to add insult injury he caused a cave in that not only could have potentially crushed Ron and Harry but also trapped Ginny, Harry and I in the chamber with the Heir and Serpent of Slytherin. The one before him had Voldemort on the back of his head, again he tried to kill students. Simply put, twice is coincidence and I want to see if this is a pattern.”

“He isn’t wearing a turban,” George pointed out.

“So chances of him having You-Know-Who on the back of his head are slim,” Fred added with snigger.

“And based on the lessons we’ve had he seems to know which end of a wand to use,” George shrugged.

Fred raised his index finger as Kurt sometimes did, “I think he might actually know a spell or two.”

“You guys are too kind,” Professor Lupin chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“I’m not amused,” he shot the three a disapproving look.

“Let me ask you a question,” Professor Lupin crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’ll humour you,” Kurt nodded as he pulled out a compact and fixed his hair.

“What made you think you could cast a Patronus?”

“You mean on the train?” Kurt blushed at the memory of his failure but didn’t let it fluster him, “I honestly couldn’t think of a reason why it wouldn’t work, I’m one of the most powerful young wizards and I use magic way beyond my level all the time so I couldn’t think of a reason why this situation would be any different.”

“You’re one of the most powerful young wizards?” George gave him a doubtful look.

Fred matched the look, “Says who?”

“Professor Dumbledore,” Kurt gave a small smile, “He’s the president of my fan club.”

“I thought that was Goyle,” George joked which earned him a scowl from Kurt.

“Ron is not happy about that,” Fred shook his head.

“He thinks it’s irresponsible that they make you share a dorm with him,” George gave Kurt a small nudge on the shoulder.

“First time I heard him use ‘irresponsible’ correctly,” Fred joked.

“He usually says ‘irresponsive’,” George chuckled.

“But we set his mind at ease,” Fred nodded proudly.

“Told him you could take care of yourself,” George poked him with his finger to punctuate his statement.

“And Goyle was the one who should be worried,” Fred looked self-satisfied as he spoke.

Kurt smiled broadly for a moment, “Ron is such a good friend to me.”

“Funny, he says the same about you,” Fred raised a curious brow.

George made awkward hand gestures that Kurt soon realised were actually rude, “there’s a tension between you two and everyone can see it.”

“I saw it,” Professor Lupin added from where he’d been quietly observing.

“It’s complicated,” Kurt gave a small chuckle.

“Ooh, gossip!” George exclaimed with falsified girlish excitement.

Fred rested his head in his palms, “Share.”

“Well there’s not much to tell,” Kurt issued a disclaimer before delving into the particulars, “Ron and I weren’t really friends until the beginning of the year, we were kind of just in the same circle and tolerant of each other. When Hermione and Neville started doing their little thing, I ended up next to Ron in a lot of my classes because I swapped seats with Hermione which confused things.”

“What are we supposed to do with all the ‘Kurt and Ron Show’ t-shirts we made?” Fred demanded.

“We’re not getting the deposit back on those,” George shook his head in disbelief.

Kurt shrugged, “I guess it’s a different kind of show.” Kurt’s eyes went wide when he realised that Professor Lupin was still in their midst, “I just realised how inappropriate that conversation was in the presence of a teacher.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” the man smiled, “detention is almost over, so you won’t have to worry about feeling awkward about it till your next lesson.”

“I don’t feel the least bit better,” Kurt laid his head on the desk, “I’m going to look at my picture from the newspaper and leave early.” Kurt flipped open the daily prophet, looked at the great picture of himself and smiled, “better already.”

Kurt got up and left, to his utter surprise Hermione was pacing in front of the door, “Kurt!”

She hugged him tightly, “Do we have an appointment I forgot about because I’m sure I mentioned having detention multiple times.”

“Why do you have detention on a Sunday anyway?” she asked him without letting him go.

“They finally figured out that Friday night with Hagrid was the only bad idea in all existence,” Kurt gave a hearty chuckle into her shoulder, “why are we still hugging?”

“I have bad news,” Hermione stroked his hair as she spoke.

Kurt rolled his eyes even though she couldn’t see, “You know, I’m actually really good at taking bad news. I was once told that I had leukaemia and I dealt with that pretty well.”

“That was about eight years ago and you did have panic attacks last year,” Hermione pointed out.

“Is this about the article in _The Daily Prophet_?” Kurt tried to pre-empt him.

Hermione let him go and gawked at him, “How did you- Actually, you’re Kurt Hummel and that’s probably going to be your reply.”

“Fred and George showed me,” Kurt shrugged with a wicked smile, “I like your line of thinking as well.” Hermione didn’t say anything, “I liked the picture.”

“You used to lose consciousness over your paternity and now you like your picture?” Hermione looked concerned.

“I think with the amount of therapy I’ve had I’ve reached a certain level of indifference,” Kurt shrugged, “If I’ve learned anything from watching you it’s that who our parents are doesn’t say that much about who we are; your parents are muggles and you’re the brightest witch of the age, genetics don’t mean as much I thought they did.”

“So you don’t care?” Hermione looked confused now.

“Maybe my dad is an escaped mass murderer,” Kurt shrugged, “I’m not an escaped mass murderer, I haven’t even been convicted yet.”

“You are the strangest little boy ever,” she hugged.

“This is more touching than I’m comfortable with,” Kurt smiled into Hermione’s shoulder again.

“How was detention?”

Kurt shrugged then stopped, “Professor Lupin, he’s actually handsome right? I’m not imagining that.”

Hermione giggled, “Yes he is, why? Are you hot for teacher?”

Kurt linked up arms with Hermione and smiled, “I am not you, I have self-control.”

“I was not hot for teacher; he had portrayed himself as a brave, handsome and celebrated hero,” Hermione jeered, “the self-control bit is only applicable so long as no one makes you angry.”

“What can I say?” Kurt let out a bell like laugh, “You won’t like me when I’m mad.”

~0~

Kurt had hung back to offer argument to Professor Binns on Salem Witch Hunts; he had read _The Crucible_ and thought that the omission of innocent muggles that had lost their lives after being falsely accused of witchcraft, he had further thoughts on the statute of secrecy and whether it was necessary but Professor Binns shut him down as he always did. Kurt wasn’t defeated or dejected as he had come to expect this of Professor Binns, Kurt had taken the rebuffing in stride and swiftly moved on to his Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson.

“Kurt,” he turned at the sound of his name, people had to stop waiting for him in doorways or his heart might give way, “it’s Terry, Terry Boot.”

“I know who you are,” Kurt looked the dark haired Ravenclaw boy over, he couldn’t for the life of him think of any reason why Terry Boot would speak to him; they didn’t run in the same circle nor did they have anything in common other than their flare for their scholastic careers and the colour of their hair, “I know everyone in our year.”

“Can we talk?” the boy didn’t seem nervous, he appeared to be uncomfortable; maybe he wanted Kurt to tutor him in Muggle Studies but that made no sense because Padma and Hermione were more approachable.

“Can we walk and talk?” Kurt jerked his head in the direction of Professor Lupin’s classroom, “I don’t want to be late, it’s already complicated enough with Professor Lupin.”

“I don’t even know what that means so I’m going to go ahead and say my piece,” Kurt gave an expectant nod, “I’d like to take you out on a date this weekend, in Hogsmead.”

Kurt was caught unawares by the statement, “I beg your pardon, would you mind running that by me again?”

“Look, Anthony wants to take out Hermione but he’s too shy to ask her and he’s afraid of awkward silences,” Kurt gave the boy a blank stare, “so he asked me to ask you to go out with me so you can ask Hermione to go out with him.”

“I’m pretty smart and I found that hard to follow,” Kurt let out a breath of understanding, “You want me to bring Hermione on a double date with you and Anthony?”

“Exactly,” the boy exclaimed with tired breath, “but there’d be nothing between us.”

“Just so you know you are not winning any favour with me by constantly reminding me that you’re not interested in me,” Kurt gave the boy a penetrative look, “If anything it might prompt me to call the whole thing off.”

“Oh bullocks,” the boy ran his hands through his hair angrily, “I’m the worst best friend ever.”

“And I’m the best,” Kurt smiled as he preened under his own compliment, “you are in luck because I advised Hermione to try dating a Ravenclaw boy and since Anthony is the cutest boy in third year it seems only fitting that he is with the prettiest girl at Hogwarts, at least that’s what I’m going to tell her.”

“You don’t know how you're saving my life,” Terry gave Kurt a chaste kiss on the cheek to show his appreciation, “Thank you.”

“Oh Terrence,” Kurt ran his index finger through the front of his quiff as he watched the boy walk ahead.

The boy turned to Kurt with a queer look on his face, “people don’t call me Terrence.”

“People also don’t kiss people they aren’t interested in,” Kurt gave a devilish smile.

“Well…” the boy blushed as was expected of someone who’d potentially been caught in a lie.

“Except for Finn,” Kurt shook his head as he deflected from the awkwardness he’d created, “Finn kisses everyone, don’t get too near or he will go in for the kill and let you feel his boobs.”

“I think they’re called pecs on men,” the boy gave a small chuckle as they entered their Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

“Really?” Kurt raised a snarky brow, “You’re telling me what things are called? If this fake dating thing is going to work then you have to agree with everything I say.”

“What happens if you’re wrong?”

Kurt stopped in the doorway, he turned to the dark haired boy, “You really don’t get how this works.”

“Kurt, Terry,” Professor Lupin stopped his lesson and smiled, “We were about to send out a search party for you.”

“We’re here,” Kurt raised his hands in surrender, “I apologise for my own tardiness as I elected to discuss _The Crucible_ in relation to real life Salem Witch Hunts with Professor Binns. I, however, cannot account for Terrance’s tardiness.”

 “No need for excuses just don’t let it happen again; in your absence I was telling your peers that I have found a boggart for you to face and practice your riddikulus jinx,” The man nudged his head toward the door, “Follow me but I implore you to keep the peace as other people are in class.”

Kurt quickly fell in step with Hermione, he had a self-satisfied smile on his face, “I am truly the world’s number one best friend.”

“Oh, you should put that on a mug for yourself,” Hermione said with a fake laugh.

Kurt’s jaw went slack, “Are you not going to ask me how I came by my achievement?”

Hermione took a deep breath and put on a fake smile, “Oh Kurt, what have you done in all your greatness?”

“You don’t love me like you once did,” Kurt narrowed his gaze as they came to the staff room.

Hermione let out a tired sigh, “Sweetheart I’m too exhausted to love myself, let alone another person. There are not enough hours in the day to do homework and study for twelve subjects.”

“You’re joking right?” Kurt gave her a disappointed glare as Professors Lupin and Snape discussed something that culminated in Neville being called to the front. Kurt didn’t let his attentions be moved from Hermione, “You are one of the last people to complain about time being against you.”

“I don’t use… ‘it’ after school,” Hermione hissed back at him.

“Why not?” Kurt gave one of his bell like laughs, “I use ‘it’ during school, to double my studying time and even to sleep.”

“What does Kurt use to sleep?” Ron asked as he and Harry joined what was forming into a line around them.

“It’s a girl thing,” Hermione answered dismissively.

Ron nodded for a moment before giving them a quizzical look, “Kurt isn’t a girl.”

“We’re talking about tampons,” Kurt’s tone told Ron that this was where the conversation ended.

Ron turned green and looked away, this was only for a moment, “How do tampons double your studying time.”

“Stick one up your ass and you’ll find out,” Hermione’s tone matched Kurt’s now.

In an effort to avoid the gazes they’d earned from their peers they pretended to be paying attention to the lesson, something they hadn’t realised they hadn’t been doing. They looked to where Neville stood at the front of the line, Professor Lupin had been whispering something in his ears and Kurt wished he knew what. The wardrobe that stood at the front of the class creaked open and Professor Snape came out of it looking particularly peeved, Neville looked terrified and Kurt realised that the boggart had sensed his fear of Professor Snape and transformed itself into him. It seemed like Neville wasn’t going to do anything until Professor Snape started in with the insults, the blue eyed boy raised his wand slowly and pointed it at the darkly dressed man and with a small flick of his wrist and an incantation of ‘riddikulus’ Professor Snape’s dark clothes transformed into an emerald green tweed suit, a white blouse, black lace gloves, a bright red handbag and a large hat with a stuffed vulture on it; Kurt allowed his eyes to wonder and came to a pair of sensible kitten heel, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing loudly with his peers.

“So,” Hermione made sure not to raise her voice above a whisper so that Ron and Harry couldn’t hear them, “You and Terry Boot were late.”

Kurt smiled, “you finally want to know what makes me the world’s number one best friend?” Hermione nodded and Kurt’s self-satisfied smile returned as they moved along with the line, “Well, I hope you're available this weekend.”

“This weekend is a Hogsmead weekend,” Hermione said on a matter-of-fact tone.

“Precisely, you and I have dates with Anthony Goldstein and Terrence Boot respectively,” Kurt adjusted Hermione’s alice band whilst she processed the idea, “I did say we should try dating Ravenclaw boys.”

“And Anthony is growing into a handsome young man,” Hermione blushed as she spoke, “all shy and looking like broad shoulders are in his future.”

“You read his tea leaves,” Kurt joked.

“I read that body,” Hermione purred in reply.

“You do know we can hear you,” Ron pointed out.

“So,” Hermione’s playful tone fell, “you guys objectify women all the time and the whole point of feminism is that we’re supposed to be able to do the same thing without consequence.”

“We do not,” Harry protested, speaking for the first time since the lesson started.

Kurt scoffed, “Do you think we don’t remember the conversation about Millicent Bulstrode’s oversized knockers from last year.”

“I remember it,” Finn snaked his head between Kurt and Hermione, trying to force himself between the pair, “she was the first person in our year to get boobs and they were so big, they still are. Kurt and Hermione are right though guys, Anthony has the kind of body that invites you to touch it.”

“Amen,” Kurt and Hermione nodded along as they moved in time with the line.

“Friendly reminder,” Ernie squeezed into the same space Finn was in, effectively forcing Kurt and Hermione to unhook arms, “Sunday is a Muggle Activities meeting and we’re playing rugby.”

“Can’t we start with hockey?” Kurt groaned, “I’m actually good at that.”

“I second the motion,” Hermione raised her hand in solidarity.

“You’re getting free beer,” Finn scolded, “Take what we give you and be grateful.”

Hermione grabbed Harry’s cheek playfully, “I just hope Harry doesn’t fall asleep again, that was adorable.”

“I hope I get hit on again,” Kurt nodded to himself, “I feel like that doesn’t happen enough in my life.”

“You wanna go make out?” Finn winked at him.

“Also you're my brother, so it doesn’t count,” Kurt shook his head before mouthing back, ‘call me’.

Professor Lupin cleared his throat, “Would the group in the back form a line, we’re waiting for you.”

Suddenly it dawned on them that whilst they were sexually objectifying the world the lesson had gone on, the Hufflepuff boys went first; Justin’s boggart had been a Basilisk which luckily didn’t manage to kill or petrify anyone, the boy had made quick work of turning it into a slinky spring that bounced lazily about the classroom. Ernie’s boggart had been a dragon with spikes all over its scaly skin, he’d turned it into a chameleon with next to no effort. Ernie’s choice to turn his boggart into a subspecies of lizard had been ironic as Finn’s boggart was a gecko to which he had simply shrieked and jumped into his friends arms without attempting to defeat it, simply exclaiming that it was going to eat him.

Ron’s boggart was familiar only to Kurt and Harry, it was Aragog in all his hairy, pincering, onyx eyed glory. At first Ron had whimpered at a pitch that was so high Kurt was sure only he and dogs could hear it, when he cast the riddikulus jinx Aragog’s legs had disappeared and left him as an immobile thorax and abdomen which Kurt didn’t think was particularly funny but who was he to judge.

When Harry had stepped up to centre stage, the Boggart had begun to twist itself into a dark shape but before it could properly take form Professor Lupin stepped between Harry and the Boggart; the boggart reformed itself into a silver orb which Kurt couldn’t understand, why would anyone be afraid of the moon? He cast the boggart repelling jinx and the orb deflated like a balloon having the air let out, it even made the same flatulent sound as Professor Lupin directed it into the wardrobe from whence it had come.

“A crystal ball?” Hermione furrowed her brow, Kurt wanted to tell her it was the moon but that made about the same amount of sense so he chose to just let it be, “Guess Divination isn’t just bad to us, appears to have been a problem for decades.”

“And there we were blaming Professor Trelawney when she too is just a victim of circumstance,” Kurt shook his head, Hermione raised a brow, “Well she can’t have been teaching here long enough to have taught Professor Lupin, he looks twice her age.”

“That’s enough for today,” Professor Lupin clapped his hands, “You’ve done smashingly, class dismissed.”

“I guess we don’t get to go,” Hermione shrugged, “that seems fair.”

“What would your boggart have turned into?” Ron asked them.

“It’s too embarrassing to say,” Hermione blushed.

“I’m afraid of too many things to be sure what scares me most,” Kurt shrugged, “it would have probably been me in miss matched socks.”

“Luna wears mismatched socks and you don’t seem scared of her,” Ron pointed out.

“Luna wears a lot of things that scare me but I’m okay with them on other people,” Kurt argued, “like I would never wear red and yellow together but it’s a bold fashion choice.”

“Sometimes you are so full of shit,” Hermione laughed, Harry didn’t make a sound, “Harry, this isn’t your normal silence.”

“Is Draco making fun of you again?” Kurt laid a comforting hand on the boy’s back, “you should tell a teacher if he is, or whisper it to me.”

“Professor Lupin thinks I’m weak,” Harry mumbled but Kurt caught what he was saying, “why else would he stop me from facing the boggart?”

“Maybe he thought it would be too much,” Hermione suggested but realised that she was only confirming his beliefs, “for everyone else, I mean.”

“You are really emo, who knows what freaky shit is going on in your head?” Kurt pointed out the obvious, this earned him disapproving looks from Hermione and Ron.

“What Kurt means is that you’re pretty intense and there was the possibility it could have been You-know-who or something that would cause panic,” Hermione tried again.

“You’re too bad ass to be afraid of something like spiders or a gecko,” Ron tried.

“I don’t even know what Voldemort looks like,” Harry shrugged, “I’ve only seen him on the back of Quirrel’s head.”

“There was the time in the Chamber of Secrets,” Kurt got another round of disapproving looks, he hung his hands in defeat.

“So, are we all in agreement that this isn’t about you but rather people’s reactions?”  Hermione looked around as if expecting a vote, “Very well, Kurt and I need to go discuss outfit options for Saturday.”

“Ooh,” Harry gave a fake smile, “dating Ravenclaw boys, moving up in the world.”

“You could try actual enthusiasm,” Hermione nudged Harry playfully, trying to ensure that whatever uncertainty had plagued him moments ago was gone. There was no telling with Harry, the bespectacled lad kept his cards close to his chest.

~0~

“Bonjour,” the robust man greeted them with greater vigour than Kurt was comfortable in obviously learned French of a second language speaker; he always expected a certain level of apathy from everyone other than Hermione and himself when it came to school, was it selfish of him to want them to be the only people to get excited by life, “ _Today we will be delving deep into the art of speaking French._ ”

“ _The language of love,_ ” Padma squealed with slight excitement.

“ _Ah, yes,_ ” the man didn’t seem the least bit surprised by the statement, “ _But, like any other language, French can be crude as well; it’s not all brooding, rude French boys with cigarettes in their mouths but don’t we wish._ ” Kurt had to supress an overly zealous giggle as he leaned against Finn; the classroom set up was gone and had been replaced by couches in a horseshoe formation. The pair of brothers watched as the man waddled under his enormous weight to a piano, “ _the French also scratch their balls, swear like sailors and offer a comfortable home to the most famous whore house in the world._ ”

“ _Whilst all of that may be true Hector,_ ” Finn’s chest rumbled next in Kurt’s ear as he spoke in a casual vernacular of French that boasted years of experience, “ _the Moulin Rouge wasn’t a brothel, it was a burlesque bar._ ”

“ _And the difference being,_ ” he gave a slightly sinister smirk.

Kurt watched his brother match the smirk, “ _Ernie, Justin and I would like to make a visual presentation on the differences._ ”

Kurt’s head hit the coach rather abruptly when Finn removed himself from beside him, Kurt sat up straight and watched his brother and his friends take positions at the centre of the ‘U’ formation couch; Finn took off his robe and started swinging it violently over his head with a throaty belt, “Mmm Hmmm Gitchi Gitchi Ya Ya Ta Ta. Gitchi Gitchi Ya Ya, Yeah! Mocca chocolata Ya Ya, Creole Lady Marmalade! Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir? Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?”

“Did your brother just?” Hermione leaned in to whisper the words in his ear as if it were some kind of secret that the other six people in the room hadn’t witnessed.

Kurt nodded with a small laugh, he’d forgotten that Finn sometimes did things like this, “This is what Finn does, he spends his time being generally exceptional.”

“ _Good job boys but how does that differ from prostitution?_ ” Hector smiled broadly as he gave each a firm pat on the shoulder.

Hermione’s had her hand raised before anyone else; when she spoke her French was flawless if not a tad too formal, an indicator that she’d studied hard to achieve her linguistic prowess, “ _Intention, a burlesque worker does their job as an art form that happens to arouse the audience where as a prostitute would use their sexuality as a means to an end._ ”

“ _While Hermione might be in the correct ball park I would barely call such a display art,_ ” Lisa Turpin sneered with her nose held in the air.

“ _That was the most… artistic thing I’ve seen all year,_ ” Padma responded with an indignant grunt, she spoke her French with the same Indian accent she spoke English in which made it sound more adorable than Kurt could have imagined possible.

“ _But is the artistic value of an item not determined by what it invokes in the audience within its medium?_ ” Kurt pointed out as they began sparring on the matter, “ _the point of burlesque is to invoke a sexual reaction from the audience, be it through direct or indirect attraction._ ”

“ _I’m sorry but what is indirect attraction?_ ” Anthony stuttered out the words in a broken more casual dialect of French.

“ _When you aren’t attracted to an object but the idea behind it,_ ” Hermione explained, “ _scientifically a sweaty male would be more attractive not because you have a thing for odours or sportsmen but rather because it’s a mark of virility, it’s a similar principal in that such a display of sexuality indicates a certain level of confidence and comfort in one’s own skin._ ”

Kurt began a slow clap that nobody joined and beamed at his best friend, “ _Hermione Granger everyone._ ”

Hermione blushed and nudged him in the ribs, “Stop it.”

“ _An art piece, regardless of medium is intended to invoke a reaction,_ ” Padma explained, “ _The Birth of Venus is a display of female nudity that engages you on the beauty of the human form as well as the complexity of the universe._ ”

“ _That’s kind of like how Macbeth is supposed to teach about the corrupting influence of power and the remunerations that await the wicked,_ ” Terry countered, “ _The fact that there’s more there makes it art?_ ”

“ _Does this mean The Girl in the Pearl Earrings isn’t art?_ ” Mandy looked confused, “ _it’s just a portrait of a woman._ ”

“ _The techniques employed by the writer make it art,_ ” Kurt explained, “ _Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood is work of non-fiction but his choice to employ novel techniques to the piece makes it one of the greatest written masterpieces._ ”

“ _So the message isn’t enough?_ ” Lisa raised a curious brow, “ _You have to have technique as well?_ ”

“ _I think what Kurt and Hermione are trying to say is simple if you’re willing to listen,_ ” Anthony spoke in a shaky voice but tried to supress the stutter, “ _for it to truly be art then you must have intended to create art either by using artistic devices or by expressing and communicating and idea in any medium._ ”

“ _Now that Mr Hummel and Ms Granger have told us what makes art, it is up to us to decide whether this particular display was art,_ ” He gave a tobacco stained smile, “ _Ladies did this stir something in you? Lads, did the idea of this spur sexual tangent for you?_ ”

“Well, that’s a hetero-normative manner of questioning,” Finn protested.

The man gave him a questioning glance, “I’m not sure I follow.”

“Well sir,” Finn carried on, French left behind in favour of debate, “it’s the nineties and to ask only the girls if they were aroused by our dance and to ask just the boys if they appreciated it as an idea would exclude anyone who doesn’t fit into the stereotypical heterosexual mould.”

“That’s all well and dandy,” the man gave a small chuckle, “but not in this class.”

“Why not?” Kurt raised a curious brow, his tone was vacant because it wasn’t his intention to argue about a non-issue.

“Well you're all too young to be homosexuals and lesbians,” he laughed as if he’d told the funniest joke.

“That’s the same thing,” Hermione pointed out, “A lesbian is a female homosexual.”

“A second note is that age isn’t a good gauge for sexuality,” Ernie’s tone was less than impressed, “because according to Sigmund Freud psychosexual development begins at birth.”

Hermione leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Didn’t we have that conversation in Care for Magical Creatures?”

“I tried it on Finn first,” Kurt gave a small giggle, “he must have shared with his friends, I guess it’s trending.”

“You are a tough lot but the school board would have my head if I taught you any of that,” Hector shook his head dismissively, “Imagine the scandal if we were to read Oscar Wilde.”

“Of all the controversial topics you’ve delved willingly into in the short space of time we’ve known each other, you choose to draw the line at human sexuality?” Kurt asked the question through hooded lids that spoke volumes of the disapproval he was raining down on the man, “it’s the nineties, the turn of the century and the millennium are almost upon us, I think now is as good a time as any to shed any negative preconceived notions and beliefs.”

“Mr Hummel,” the man gave Kurt another one of his tobacco stained smiles, “if only there were more hours in a lesson but the time has come for you to be on your way, up and at ‘em. We will resume this lesson next week.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Is that what you’re wearing on your big date?” Ron slipped into the seat beside Kurt and grabbed a slice of toast from the boy’s plate, “I like it, wouldn’t want to send the wrong message.”

Kurt looked down at the oversized multi-coloured sweater his grandmother had gifted him a Christmas ago, “I’m not wearing this but what kind of message do my normal clothes send? How is this wrong?”

“No, you miss heard me,” Ron didn’t look at Kurt as he spoke because he was too busy getting started on the bacon sandwich assembly line, “there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“So there’s something wrong with the rest of my clothes?” Kurt’s eyebrows were probably embedded in his hair at this point and his voice was equally high.

“Nothing’s wrong with your clothes,” Ron laid a greasy hand of comfort on Kurt’s, “they’re just very… grown up and they got you accosted in a pub once.”

“That was one time,” Kurt protested.

“How often do you go to pubs?” Ron did something that Kurt never expected, he tilted his head expectantly as Kurt often did.

“Just that once,” Kurt smiled nervously.

“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with your clothes,” Ron shrugged, “just reminding you that the world doesn’t always see things the same way.”

Kurt wanted to smile but that would mean admitting that Ron was being wise, “your wording was sloppy at best. I will wear whatever I like and nobody is going to stop me.”

“If I don’t approve I might tell McGonagall, then she can stop,” Ron shrugged.

“What’s he telling McGonagall?” Hermione slipped into the seat beside the pair.

“Ron thinks some of outfits are too grown up,” Kurt said to Hermione before turning to Ron, “You sound like my dad and Carole.”

“That’s absurd Ron,” Hermione shook her head, “Kurt dresses like my grandmother does, if her clothes all shrank in the wash.”

“The one that sounds like Hagrid?” Kurt’s eyebrows were back in the vicinity of his hairline.

“No, the other one,” Hermione laid an assuring hand on his should, “you’d approve. Speaking of Hagrid, we should go see how he’s doing, maybe in the afternoon?”

“We could go see him this afternoon when we get back from Hogsmead or tomorrow before the rugby,” Kurt clapped excitedly having let the idea of playing wash over him and finally settled on a worst case scenario he could easily wrap his head around.

“Harry and I’ll go during the day,” Ron waved them off, “we’ll tell him you meant to come.”

“During the day?” Hermione gawked at the red haired boy, “Are you not coming into town.”

Ron shrugged and tried to exude an air of indifference but it failed and came across forced, “we don’t feel up to it.” Kurt and Hermione each gave the boy an intense stare and slowly he crumbled, “Harry didn’t get his indemnity form signed and I was going to stay with him under the guise of trying to save my money, you know how he is.”

“So if we stayed as well he’d get all sullen and moody,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “that would defeat the purpose.”

“Why didn’t he send it back to his aunt?” Kurt was slightly peeved by the apathy with which this situation was being dealt, “I thought she was on drugs and being fake nice to him.”

“That would mean swallowing his pride,” Hermione pointed out, “but we’re also not in a position to pass judgement, we don’t know their story.”

“And I have the feeling we’ll probably never know,” Ron sighed.

“What will you never know?” Harry asked with false pep as he sat opposite the three of them.

“What the history between Lupin and Snape is,” Kurt quickly said, “I was telling Ron and Hermione that Professor Lupin takes all of Professor Snape’s detentions.”

“And I remember them whispering to each other just before our practical lesson on Boggarts,” Hermione added, Kurt thought he had been the only one to notice that.

“And then they ignore each other in public,” Ron seemed to be mulling this information over in his mind, “almost as if their keeping a secret.”

“Do you think their…” Hermione made a rude gesture, “you know.”

Kurt laughed at his friends prudish nature, “fornicating?  I think Professor Lupin is a little out of Professor Snape’s league.”

“Hence the secrecy,” Hermione pointed it out like it was so obvious, “Snape is his dirty little secret.”

Kurt rolled his eyes with a giggle, “The day Professor Snape can pull a sexy beast like that is the day I go out with Goyle.”

“Ice cold,” Harry smiled.

“Fred and George said I was colder than dry ice,” Kurt smiled.

Harry’s eyes flicked from Hermione to Kurt and back again, “You two are killing that minimalistic look.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Kurt groaned, “After I help Hermione with her hair I will change into something that has all the bells and whistles you’ve come to expect from me.”

“I feel like this is how I always dress,” Hermione furrowed her brow, “I was actually going to wear this, this is my favourite dress.”

Kurt eyed the grey tunic, “it’s a step up from the yellow gymslip you wore to _Language_.”

“Wear one of the things we bought in London,” Harry suggested, “They all have the Kurt stamp of approval.”

“I feel like Anthony knew what I looked like when he agreed to go on a date with me,” Hermione protested with an angry huff, “I don’t think it’s necessary for me to change the way I look.”

“Nobody’s changing the way you look,” Kurt spoke calmly and soothingly, “I tried that last year and it didn’t work out, you picked those clothes so you must have liked them.”

“All we’re saying is that you shouldn’t dress like we’re staying in to watch the telly,” Harry tried to soothe her, he looked wrecked with guilt for having broached the subject.

“Does this mean you’re not going to braid my hair?” Hermione let out an exhausted grunt, “because I’d hate to have to brush it.”

“That’s why I’m dressed like this,” Kurt smiled sweetly at her.

Ron stopped for a moment and raised a brow in Kurt’s direction, “you wore different clothes just to do Hermione’s hair?”

“This Gryffindor’s mane sheds everywhere,” Kurt made a dramatic hand gesture that mimicked the size of Hermione’s dome of curls as he spoke.

“My hair doesn’t shed that much and I doubt it’s that highly domed,” Hermione gave him a playful nudge on the shoulder.

“Of course it is,” Ron leaned forward to tease her, “why else do you think Kurt started _The Power for Hair Straighteners_ petition?”

“We have six signatures now,” Kurt nodded triumphantly, “I’m waiting for the three of you to sign it as well before I can take it to the public.”

“I’m against hair straighteners,” Harry shook his head, “I think they are an abomination against nature.”

“I don’t know enough to make an informed decision,” Hermione waved her hands, “a lot of the facts right now are falling very far on both sides of the fence and I still need to consult my spiritual advisor.”

“I’m your spiritual advisor,” Kurt rolled his eyes before turning to Ron, “what’s your excuse?”

“I’m apolitical,” Ron spoke around a mouthful of bacon sandwich.

“Sometimes I think you guys want my curls to show themselves,” Kurt shook his head in defeat, “it’s not a good look on me, I look nothing like Mark Ruffalo!”

_On the other side of school at the exact same time:_

“You need to stop,” Kurt’s voice was clinical, he didn’t want to appear at all fickle, “if you don’t stop we’ll have a problem.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I don’t know what I mean either but soon enough I will and it will probably piss me off.”

“How do you know you’re going to know something soon?”

“Something’s off about me,” Kurt admitted, “I’ve never forgotten anything almost all my life, it just takes me a moment to sort through the memories but suddenly I’m drawing blanks.”

“You should see a doctor.”

Kurt wanted to laugh but didn’t, “this isn’t medical, I’m the kind of person who goes to see the doctor before the symptoms start to manifest themselves, this means someone is interfering with me.”

“If somebody is interfering with you then why would you come to me?”

“Because you’re the only person with the balls to do it.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“You’re not going to stop, are you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Look, I’m going to do you a favour.”

“You’re really talking to the wrong person.”

“My mind is a very complex filing system with a rather impressive search algorithm,” Kurt smirked, “one thing that never happens is that I never fail to produce results on something that I even consider worth searching for.”

“I don’t understand what you’re implying.”

“If you’re going to try and bury something that I know then you have to plant an oak tree over the grave because blanks make me suspicious,” Kurt squared up, “I’m not above exhuming that skeleton.”

“What if it’s not what you think it is?”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“What if it’s bigger that you think it is? What if it’s for the greater good?”

Kurt’s composure was shredded when those final words hit his ears and he started shouting angrily, “When it comes to my mind there is no greater good than me! In there, there is nothing bigger than me”

~0~

Kurt and Hermione stared each other down in the entrance hall, one of them would have to break eventually and Kurt knew that it couldn’t be him.

“You should go change,” Kurt eventually said, he had broken but he remained obstinate on the matter.

“Not a chance in hell,” Hermione scoffed, Kurt couldn’t read her and it was making him angry.

“I wear it better,” Kurt twirled and showcased how well he wore the blouse but he knew Hermione looked just as good in it.

“I saw it first,” Hermione countered angrily.

“I bought it first,” Kurt spoke between gritted teeth, “if memory serves you called fugly until I tried it on.”

“It’s a woman’s blouse,” Hermione chortled.

“Never stopped me before,” Kurt ridiculed, he grabbed Finn by the arm as he tried to walk by without being pulled into the argument, “Who’s wearing it better?”

“Ooh, is this the vintage Chanel?” Finn avoided answering the question by showering them in compliments, “Cute.”

“We’re not falling for that this early in the morning,” Hermione shook her head dismissively, “You have to answer and answer honestly.”

The boy cleared his throat nervously, “you’re both making it work in such different ways; Kurt has that whole sophisticated, office whore vibe going so well.”

“Oh my gosh,” Kurt squealed excitedly, “That’s just the look I was going for.”

“Hermione on the other hand has the slutty Margaret Thatcher thing in the bag,” Finn seemed to give their conundrum a moment’s thought, “Are you going on a date with the same boy?”

“We’re weird but I don’t think it’s come to that yet,” Hermione and Kurt laughed at the idea.

“Then it doesn’t matter who wears it better,” Finn shrugged, “Neither of you should have to change because each of your dates should only have eyes for you two, beauties nobody can compete with.”

“Have I ever told you what a sexy beast you are when you solve my fashion conundrums,” Kurt pulled at Finn’s cheek playfully.

Hermione mirrored his actions, “more so when you’re calling us beautiful.”

“What can I say?” Finn shrugged with an arrogant smirk, “When you got it, you got it. Also though, it’s not even the same colour.”

“Are you guys ready to go?” Neville seemingly appeared out of thin air.

“Pretty much,” Hermione smiled nervously, “we’re just waiting for Professor McGonagall to give us the go ahead.”

“Have you seen Ron and Harry anywhere?” Neville returned Hermione’s smile, “I was hoping to head into the village with them since you two have a double date.”

“They aren’t coming,” Kurt’s tone was clinical, “I feel like as their roommate you should know this.”

“They didn’t tell me this,” Neville protested defensively, “If anything Ron led me to believe they were still coming this morning.”

“Harry forgot to get his permission slip signed and refuses to send it home to have his aunt sign it,” Kurt couldn’t help but be peeved at this development, “I feel like if his evil aunt is being fake nice then he should exploit it.”

“Students are to leave and return through the main school entrance,” Professor McGonagall instructed, “Mr Filch will check your name on the list when you leave and again when you return.”

“That’s not the Gryffindor thing to do,” Hermione scolded, this was the second time she was telling him this but it simply didn’t make sense.

“How is getting your way against the Gryffindor ethos?” Kurt held up his hands in defeat, “you know what? We’re not having this fight again, I’m just going to dance on the good intentions that are paving my road to hell.”

“Good morning Hermione,” Anthony smiled nervously, he was able to supress his stutter with the aid of a couple of pumps from his inhaler, “How are you?”

“I’m well and yourself,” Her hand moved to fiddle with her Dutch braid crown now that Kurt couldn’t do anything to stop her.

“I’m okay,” he nodded with a sideways jerk that Kurt suspected was a twitch, “great actually. Kurt, Finn, Neville.”

“Morning Anthony,” Kurt gave the boy a polite smile, “Where’s y- where’s Terry this morning?”

“Here I am,” the boy grabbed a handful of Kurt’s buttocks which made Kurt yelp in surprise, “miss me?”

“Did he just?” Finn laughed loudly, “I always said Kurt’s bottom invited you to touch it but I never thought anyone would be stupid enough to try it.” He let loose another round of laughter, “you are a very brave man. Let’s go Neville, before we’re witnesses to murder.”

“I think we should get going as well,” Kurt’s voice hadn’t quite recovered from the shock of being felt up and came out a strained whistle.

“Who do we have here?” Mr Filch looked them up and down suspiciously, “Names.”

“Boot, Terrence; Goldstein, Anthony; Granger, Hermione; Hummel, Kurt Elizabeth,” Anthony managed to say with minimal incidence.

Mr Filch nodded and just as soon they were on their way. A few minutes into the walk and the conversation hadn’t picked up, by that Kurt meant that they were walking down the winding road in awkward silence; Kurt remembered that the whole point of him and Terry’s presence was to ease situations like this.

“Hector is such a contrast from the rest of Professor Burbage’s identities,” Kurt said, he left the statement open ended for Hermione to pick it up.

“I know,” Hermione’s bulged out with sudden interest, “He’s quite progressive and brash but the rest of the alternates are mild mannered conservatives.”

“Maybe he’s an anthropomorphism of all that she believes to be wrong and improper,” Anthony suggested with a small smile.

“That’s an interesting theory, I like the wording,” Hermione smiled broadly, “how did you come to conceive such an interesting notion.”

“His mother’s a psychiatrist,” Terry added with an arm slung over Anthony’s shoulder.

“She really enjoys diagnosing people,” Anthony gave a small smile.

Terry moved to interject once more but Kurt judged his technique to be too invasive, he grabbed the boy by the shoulders and gestured for him to hang back; Kurt handed his Burkin to Terry and bent over to fake tie his shoelaces.

“Should we wait?” Anthony asked in a low voice, “it would be no bother at all.”

“Nah, Kurt’s just tying his laces,” Terry seemed to get Kurt’s wavelength and assured his friend, “we’ll catch up in next to no time.”

“They’ll be with us in a moment,” Hermione agreed, “I want to hear more about that diagnosis your mother gave you.”

And with that they separated into pairs; when Hermione and Anthony were far enough ahead, Kurt stood up and took back his bag, “touch my bottom again and I will have you hung, drawn and quartered.”

“You are a feisty one,” Terry chuckled boisterously.

“I’m a dangerous one and don’t forget it,” Kurt’s laugh was smaller and controlled but much more powerful.

They walked the path toward Hogsmead village in silence, they needn’t say anything to each other because they weren’t on a date but rather were facilitating the means for their friends to comfortably do that which scared them more than anything. Kurt had been surprised when Terry had held the door open to a small tea shop called _Madam Puddifoot’s Tea shop_ ; the place wasn’t at all to Kurt’s liking. The tea shop was tacky and in Kurt’s opinion an establishment could only get away with being tacky if it was McDonald’s and he had a suspicion that he wouldn’t be gauging himself on a Big Mac today.

Kurt and Terry found a table waiting for them adjacent to the one where Hermione and Anthony were seated so that if the situation called for it they could facilitate conversation without intruding but also so they could watch and eavesdrop, they pretended to be on their own date but their curiosity won out over their better judgement.

“Good morning to the happy couple,” an elderly woman smiled broadly at them, her gaze seemed to linger on Kurt for a moment but he dismissed this as simple surprise to their same sex coupling, “is it your first time out?”

“Yes,” Kurt gave a small smile, he hoped it came across as sweet instead of queasy like he suspected.

She smiled back which meant that it couldn’t have been that bad a smile, “What can I get you two?”

Kurt took a moment to survey the specials board, “We’ll have a pot of tea and a slice of Victorian sponge for me.”

“Will that be a single slice or our lovebirds sharing slice?” her smile was more suggestive than Kurt was comfortable with.

“I’ll be having the chocolate cake,” Terry announced which saved Kurt the trouble of finding a nice way of dismissing the woman’s assumptions about their level of familiarity.

They seemed to have earned a confused stare from their waitress, “Our differences bring us closer.” Kurt gave her a reassuring smile, “isn’t that right Terrence?”

“Sure, whatever. Can we get the Fondue for two first though?” Kurt gave the boy that was telling, “but what makes us really special is that we skipped the ‘New love’ and ‘honeymoon’ phases and went straight for the ‘couple everyone thinks should be divorced’ part.”

The woman didn’t move but stayed routed on the spot expectantly, “We’re also not here to explain why we’re dating to you.” It irked Kurt when people tested his boundaries, “Go get our order.”

“You are a bitch and I’m kind of into it,” Terry leaned forward and took Kurt’s hand between his larger hands, running his thumbs over Kurt’s fingers.

“What are you doing?” Kurt raised a brow but it was suggestive instead of quizzical.

“It might all be part of the act,” Terry smiled devilishly, this earned him a blush from Kurt who had been caught unawares by how smooth the brash boy could be, “tell me about yourself, tell me about this ring.”

Kurt looked down at the ring his father had sent him for his twelfth birthday, “It’s a family thing, I inherited all my jewellery.”

“Are you like some kind of aristocracy?”

The boy seemed genuinely interested so Kurt threw caution to the wind, “No, nothing like that, at least not to my knowledge. That’s a tough one because after the Reign of Terror, whatever surviving aristocracy went underground so it would be difficult to be certain; they’re in wine and farming.”

“Wine and farming?” Terry smirked, “your family has a vineyard?”

“No, those are two separate things,” Kurt laughed, “we drink and collect wine, the farm is a dairy farm.”

“So what does that have to do with the rings?” Terry seemed more on the money than Kurt at this point.

“Absolutely nothing, we just all wear them,” Kurt smiled as he answered, “they don’t have any significance other than that my grandfather, my dad, Finn and I all wear them; it apparently goes back a couple of generations.”

“That’s interesting,” Terry admitted as they disconnected hands to make way for the fondue pot, “it’s a Neuchâteloise, I hope that’s fine.”

“I love all cheese in any form,” Kurt looked the pot hungrily as an enticing scent wafted from the pot.

“That’s great to hear,” Terry smiled broadly, “I have sixth sense for these things.”

“You’re only saying that because you aren’t in divination,” Kurt scoffed, rolling his eyes at the memory of Professor Trelawney’s divination lesson.

Terry guffawed loudly, “I hear Professor Trelawney is quite the piece of work.”

“Isn’t that the understatement of the century. I’ll be mum,” Kurt grabbed the plate of hard ciabatta, focaccia and crouton and piled them into the fondue, before getting to work on pouring the tea.

“I thought fondue was a dipping experience,” Terry pouted.

“It can be done either way but this is how my gran does it and I learned to be a hypochondriac from her,” Kurt joked, he looked up to see the corners of Terry’s eyes crinkling as he laughed in uncontrolled manner Kurt was not accustomed to seeing, “I can’t stand the idea of somebody double dipping. Tell me something about yourself, I feel like I’m being uncharacteristically forth coming and you need to meet me halfway. As much as I enjoy the sound of my own voice and listening to the thrilling tales of my life I want to know something I can tell Hermione in our recap”

“There isn’t much to tell,” the boy gave a small smile, “I’m just a boy from Cardiff.”

“You ever fuck a sheep?” Kurt pursed his lips expectantly.

“No,” the boy laughed loudly, grabbing his sides as he double over, “The cool kids wouldn’t let me do it with them.”

“That is a terrible stereotype,” Kurt couldn’t help laughing. Kurt gestured for Terry to grab his fondue fork, they started spearing the cheese covered nuggets of bread and transferring them onto their plates, “this allows them to cool so that you don’t have to blow on them or risk scalding your mouth. Again, you wouldn’t be able to use your fork on the communal cheese once it’s been in your mouth.”

“You took all the fun out of fondue,” Terry scolded, “I can’t even feed you because first I’d have to ask the waitress for a new fork.”

“Or you could borrow mine,” Kurt suggested with a small giggle, Kurt chose to redirect the conversation, “Cardiff, you were telling me about you.”

“I honestly don’t know what to say,” Terry seemed to conceive the notion for a moment, “I have a younger brother?”

“I hate children,” Kurt said dismissively, he realised what he was saying and decided to clarify, “I have a younger sister and I like her but she doesn’t qualify as a child yet, she’s barely two. Bottom line is I hate children.”

Terry laughed so hard he almost choked, “What about them do you hate?”

“I just don’t like disorder,” Kurt shrugged, “children have this way of attracting chaos.”

“They’re kids,” Terry laughed loudly, “they can’t help it, I’m sure you were the same at that age.”

“I was an angel,” Kurt huffed proudly, “the most anal retentive baby of all time. Wait, how did we end up talking about me again?”

“I enjoy the sound of your voice and you have a very interesting life,” Terry suggested.

Kurt’s eyes narrowed, “I think the same thing which means you’re deflecting.”

“I was just an ordinary nerd in Cardiff, my parents were divorced and my muggle mother thought it was best if my father didn’t tell us about magic till we were older; I was normal till I got my Hogwarts letter.” Terry shrugged, “the coolness comes with being a Ravenclaw.”

“Nobody thinks Ravenclaws are cool,” Kurt shook his head and sipped at his tea, “but that just makes you like the rest of us.”

“How so?” Terry raised a brow.

“A couple years ago a lot of our class were just ordinary students,” Kurt’s voice was reassuring, “Finn and I were just your run of the mill prepubescent Londoners.”

“You're surprisingly nice,” Terry gave Kurt a goofy smile, “not that I didn’t think you’d be, just-”

“Not what you expected from a sadist or maybe the heir of Slytherin,” Kurt’s features remained schooled, his smile stayed fixed, “or am I just nice for the rumoured son of an escaped mass murderer.”

“That’s where I know you from!” the woman who was serving them exclaimed as she placed their desert in front of them.

“Really bitch?” Kurt hadn’t intended on snapping but one doesn’t plan these things, “It’s not bad enough that you’re eavesdropping but now you want to comment? Can we have the bill, now!”

“Calm down,” Terry urged him with a reassuring smile, “there’s no need for us to leave just because one waitress can’t mind her own business, we’re having such a good time and we can’t let her ruin that.”

Kurt narrowed his gaze and pursed his lips, “I thought we were supposed to chaperoning and playing wingman.”

“I was always more of a bottom man,” Terry gave Kurt a mildly suggestive smile, “and your bottom is a fierce piece of work.”

Kurt smiled broadly whilst supressing a giggle, “and to think, this isn’t a date.”

~0~

“How were your dates?” Ginny slid onto the bench opposite them with Luna; the innocent curiosity in her eyes killed Kurt’s initial reply, a swift reminder that they weren’t friends.

“They were fine,” Kurt smiled broadly as he looked over to the Ravenclaw long table to where the pair of boys were sitting, “I’m more interested in Hermione’s date.”

Hermione blushed brightly and Kurt could see that she wished she could bring her braided crown down over her face and disappear from existance, “It was rather enjoyable; Anthony, other than being really handsome, is quite intelligent and loquacious for a shy asthmatic. He was very well mannered, pulled out my chair and everything.”

“Did you two hit it off?” Ginny was on the verge of spontaneous combustion.

“What?” Hermione looked slightly confused.

“She means did you two exchange Goisinthinian bugs?” Luna attempted to clarify but only confused everyone further.

“What they both mean is did you have chemistry?” Harry suggested as he found the red haired second year in his usual seat, “I’m assuming about the geostanan bugs.”

“Eep,” Ginny’s gaze was fixed on Harry as he sat down beside Luna.

“It’s Goisinthinian,” Luna corrected with a small smile.

“Oh, sorry,” Harry nodded and gave the pair a small smile as they began to shuffle, “No, it’s fine, you don’t have to move. As you were.”

“We did have chemistry,” Hermione giggle and brought her hands to cover her blush, “we seem quite simpatico, we agree on quite a bit of the school politics but there still have enough difference to create a spark of passion.”

“Nerd passion,” Ron scoffed, Kurt elbowed him in the ribs.

“Did you kiss him?” Kurt heard himself ask, they kind of separated after the tea house to facilitate some semblance of intimacy.

“She didn’t kiss him,” Harry laughed nervously, “you didn’t kiss him, right?”

“She wouldn’t,” Ron reassured the dark haired boy, “she’s much too young for that?”

“No, she’s not,” Kurt shook his head and gave a small shrug, “I kissed Cedric last year.”

“You did what!?!” Ron’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, his eyes bulged and his jaw fell open, “You… you’re… but you’re just a baby, how dare that git put his hands on you.”

“Sometimes you’re like the older brother I never wanted,” Kurt huffed.

“You have an older brother,” Luna pointed out, “a handsome tall one.”

“No,” Kurt corrected, “Finn is the older brother I did want, a cool one full of advice, who makes me look good with the parents. Ron is the over protective overbearing kind, he reacted just like my dad did.”

“I thought your dad was a cool dad,” Harry furrowed his brow, “He did take us to _Language_.”

“Then the following day he tortured us when we were hung over,” Kurt pointed out, “he’s a devious one.”

“On the subject of me and Anthony,” Hermione pulled everyone’s attention back to her, “I didn’t kiss him but we did make plans to see each other in a more than friendly way.”

 Harry twitched his head slightly before speaking, “that’s great.”

“Hi everyone,” Neville smiled brightly before turning cold, “Hermione, Kurt.”

Kurt laughed because the boy was being irrationally jealous and it didn’t make sense because he’d appeared to be excited and supportive of their dates this morning, then it hit Kurt, “Finn talked you into petty jealousy?”

“I don’t know how but he managed it,” Neville shook his head in defeat, “He managed to even make me jealous of your date with Terry.”

“He’s good that way,” Kurt looked across the Great Hall for Finn but his gaze met with Cedric’s, he didn’t hold it.

“Speaking of,” Luna smiled devilishly at him, it looked so wrong and so right on her.

“My date was okay,” Kurt shrugged as he tried to think of a stand out detail that he could share without raising protests again, “not much to tell.”

“Kurt doesn’t want to tell you about the hand holding, the fondue or the way they were smiling at each other as if they were seeing each other for the first time,” Hermione surprised him by how observant she had managed to be whilst on a date of her own.

“Kurt had a facial expression other than his bitch face?” Ron exclaimed, “you must really like this boy.”

Ginny’s face lit up but when she spoke all that came out was “eep.”

“I think there’s no question of chemistry here,” Ron shot daggers at the pair Ravenclaw boys as if they had tracked mud onto his Persian rug.

“Are you guys Kerry?” Neville sulked, “that’s the cutest couple name ever.”

“No,” Kurt smiled reassuringly at Neville, “Terry and I decided that it was in our best interest to regress to acquaintanceship and possibly spring board to friendship.”

“Why?” Hermione whined, “I’m not getting the deposit back on the Kerry jelly bracelets I made.”

“Terry’s Heterosexuality was an obstacle we simply couldn’t overcome,” Kurt spoke flatly.

“He’s straight?” Hermione choked lightly on her beverage, “what was he doing looking at you like that?”

“He was seeing me for the first time,” Kurt smiled for a moment before schooling his features, “I always tell you that I’m the nicest person I know and he was discovering that; I was just really glad to find someone who enjoyed hearing me talk about myself as much as I do.”

“I feel like you know us,” Neville grumbled, “we’re way nicer.”

“I’m impartially nice,” Kurt smirked, “people just earn my ire more readily.”

“Funny because most of the student body thinks you’re a bitch,” then realisation dawned on Hermione, “hence the seeing you for the first time.”

“Hermione gets it,” Kurt smiled broadly, it was always so refreshing to see how much Hermione got him and how well they meshed, “besides.”

“Besides?” Luna’s eyes glowed in bewilderment and curiosity.

“Kurt has his sights set elsewhere,” Hermione smiled suggestively at him.

Ron’s eyes narrowed and his face darkened, “I think he’s too old for you.”


	6. Chapter 6

Kurt had made the great trek past the quidditch pitch to the adjacent clearing arm in arm with Hermione and Luna, they weren’t exactly thrilled by the prospect of actually playing rugby or any sport that they didn’t have prior experience in but for the sake of Finn and the Muggle Activities Club they were making a concession. The pitch was littered with senior students from all houses except Slytherin, as expected Kurt was the only Slytherin present and it didn’t bother him in the least; Gryffindor, on the opposite end of the spectrum, had the greatest numbers due to their obnoxiously proactive nature.

“How exactly are we getting away with this?” Hermione raised a brow, she had been feeling unsure about the club since breakfast; it seemed that when it came to breaking the rules for the sake of it she was less than pleased, she obviously reserved that for when they were playing Nancy Drew.

“There’s nothing to get away with,” Kurt began to explain, “we have permission to share muggle activities with everyone in the club, underage drinking is one of those activities. Besides, the school’s by laws don’t recognise beer as an alcoholic beverage; only distilled spirits and beverages with an alcohol content of over fifteen percent are against school rules, it’s like Russia.”

“You’ve clearly read the unabridged school by laws too many times,” Luna shook her head, looking torn between being impressed and worried.

“One can never be too cautious when it comes to knowing where one stand with respect to rules and authority,” Kurt felt a certain level of pride, he knew every rule and how to get around the ones he needed to get around, “it makes for quite the useful skill when you border on rebellion as we frequently do.”

“You are so full of shit,” Hermione gave him a playful swat on the shoulder.

“Oh look,” Kurt and Hermione followed Luna’s extended finger, “it’s Cedric Diggory.”

“Your cute boy sensors are impressive,” Hermione smiled suggestively, Kurt made a mental note not to teach her anything more from his lexis of facial expressions because she was using them against him too often.

“Ladies,” Kurt smiled coyly, “if you’ll excuse me.”

“Don’t be gone too long,” Hermione waved him off with a knowing look.

“Good morning,” Kurt smiled broadly as he came to stand on the edge of the marked rugby field that the senior students had conjured, he had Carole buy him an outfit for the occasion and she hadn’t disappointed him; Kurt’s silver and green rugby uniform was a feat in fashionable sportswear and the fit was to die for.

“Kurt,” he had to supress a devious smile as Cedric’s eyes lit up at the sight of him, the taller boy eyed him for a moment, “How are you? You look-”

“Thank you, I’m well,” Kurt smirked, he wasn’t playing nice and the time for coy was so done; Cedric had to realise that Kurt was the wolf, he wasn’t Little Red Riding Hood, “it’s been a while, as I recall the last time we spoke to each other made for quite the amicable split.”

Cedric made a noise that sounded like he was choking and he began to blush violently, “how was your date yesterday?”

“It was okay,” Kurt gave a small smile, he had been expecting jealousy because it was one of Finn’s favourite pass times to incite jealousy in others and watch it drive them to extremes. Kurt had made a decision based on this and was not going to wait for Cedric to make the next move, he didn’t want to be waiting for Cedric Diggory to ask him out till he was in thirties.

“If you liked it then you should have put a ring on it,” Finn let out a snarky laugh as he, Ernie and Justin walked by.

“Woah-Oh,” Ernie exclaimed as he and Finn High-fived.

“Oh,” Justin did the same as he and Finn celebrated, they rounded it off with a chorused “Oh, oh-oh.”

Kurt giggled then pursed his lips, “That’ll never catch on.”

“You were telling me about your date,” Cedric spoke flatly through hooded lids, a less observant onlooker might not have picked up on the underlying tone of urgency and jealousy.

“If you’re so curious about what I’m like on a date, maybe you should consider taking me on one yourself,” Cedric tensed up beside him, “Or maybe not.”

Kurt turned on the heels of his rugby boots before Cedric could say any more; he was calling the shots but he wasn’t going to use every bullet at his disposal all at once, he wasn’t going to let Cedric suffer too long but just long enough. When he re-joined his friends on the opposite end of the field, Hermione smiled expectantly but didn’t speak.

“I am so not excited about this,” Kurt groaned, nodding his head toward the field where the sixth years were doing the last of the transfiguration and conjuration in preparation for the match; Kurt even though he was dressed for the part of a star rugby player, he was secretly hoping that they either had a surplus of numbers or an extreme deficit which left him on the bench, “I still wish we were playing hockey.”

“Oh, don’t you start deflecting Kurt Elizabeth,” Luna scolded but her soft airy voice was like a hug on his ears and quashed whatever emotions she was trying to entice, “You need to tell us what you just did to Cedric Diggory and you better make quick work of it before he gets here.”

“Is he coming over?” Kurt couldn’t help buzzing in anticipation.

“He seems to be attempting to do so,” Hermione giggled, she grabbed his shoulder when he tried to turn around, “don’t turn around, we have time.”

“All I’m going to say is that I’m the wolf in grandma’s clothing, he has to come closer to get bitten,” Kurt wasn’t sure how much time they had exactly but chose to trust his instincts, “A story is so much sweeter when it has an ending, especially when it’s a happy ending.”

“Don’t be a tease,” Hermione shook her finger in his face.

“Being mysterious is kind of my thing,” Kurt drawled with a goofy smile on his face as sinisterly rubbed his hands together, “One second I’m Voldemort’s son, the next I’m the Heir of Slytherin and then I’m the son of a mass murderer; who knows what I’m going to be next?”

“My guess is Cedric Diggory’s main squeeze,” Hermione flung her arm over his shoulder and shook him till his spectacles were hanging on for dear life.

“Never do that again,” Kurt shuddered, clutching his stomach.

Kurt, Hermione and Luna were suddenly squashed together by Fred and George who appeared seemingly from nowhere and pulled them together into a suspended sandwich.

“Hello hug!” they chorused jovially as they squeezed tightly.

Kurt’s voice was strained as he had the life squeezed out of him, “Why is this life?”

“What have we done to deserve this?” Hermione groaned.

“You two are really strong,” Luna’s voice was normal, as if she weren’t in the middle of a death grip from the Weasley twins, Kurt could feel her behind him and knew that it couldn’t be so, “bicep.”

“Could you put us down please,” Hermione’s voice was strained.

“Isn’t this the part where Kurt goes all ‘scary dark wizard’ on their behinds?” Luna asked nonchalantly.

“My wand is in my clutch,” Kurt strained, “I can’t get it open, if I try to burn them I might ruin this outfit.”

“We’re kind of getting over this,” Fred shrugged, shaking the trio slightly.

“We should let them go,” George agreed.

“I hope you’re both eaten by rhyquistal beasts,” Luna scolded, her words harder than steel but her voice soft like a cloud; Kurt was growing to like hearing her this way, she was bold and unafraid of her quirks.

“I’m so going to kill you when I catch my breath,” Kurt wheezed.

“Are we not doing this rugby thing correctly?” George teased, he moved to tousle Kurt’s hair but got a glare that stopped him midway.

“Tell me we didn’t miss the mark,” Fred pleaded.

“Wouldn’t Mr Weasley be so disappointed,” Hermione teased as she straightened her clothes.

“I know I would,” Kurt sighed and shook his head, “but what can we say? You try and raise them as best as you can and teach them what you know.”

“But the rest is up to them,” Hermione shook her head.

“Somebody’s clearly overreacting,” Fred spoke loudly but covered his mouth as if he were whispering but the evident gestures toward Hermione made his statement more than necessarily conspicuous.

“I most certainly am not!” Hermione looked affronted by his insinuation as she scolded, “I’m pretty sure you turned my boobs into back fat.”

“I’m pretty sure Luna’s boobs are on my chest now,” Kurt added with equal distaste.

Luna seemed to inspect her chest for a moment, “I still have them.” Her satisfied nod made Kurt unsure whether she was aware that he and Hermione were being facetious, “but only just.”

George eyed them and shook his head, “Merlin’s Beard, you three are strange.”

“And don’t you love it,” Hermione flashed a small smile as she teased the older boys.

“Ten points to Gryffindor,” Luna announced and the three of them raised their hands and punctuated the statement with a three-way high-five.

 “Everybody listen up, gather round. Hear ye, hear ye,” Finn spoke with held his wand to his neck to amplify the sound, the buzzing throngs of teens hung around chatting in spite of the call to order, “Shut the fuck up and listen to me or there won’t be any beer!” there was complete silence in the moment, “Now, based on the sign-up sheet we have split the group into two teams; something we managed by the skin on our nuts and the hair on our teeth, so don’t get on my nerves by asking to switch sides or to sit out.”

“Listen up because if you don’t hear your name you can take it as a clear indication that we don’t want you here!” Justin held his own wand to his neck as his voice boomed through the space, he held a clipboard in the other, “On the first team we have: Rudolph Burrow, Ravenclaw; Cho Chang, Ravenclaw; Roger Davis, Ravenclaw; Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff; Herbert Flee, Hufflepuff; Hermione Granger, Gryffindor.” Kurt’s heart stopped, if they didn’t call his name next the he and Hermione would have to be on opposite teams because the only person who came between them alphabetically was Finn and he wouldn’t put himself on a different team from Justin whose name hadn’t been called, “Kurt Hummel, Slytherin; Angelina Johnson, Gryffindor; Luna Lovegood, Ravenclaw; Anthony Rickett, Hufflepuff; Jeremy Stretton, Ravenclaw; Fred Weasley, Gryffindor; George Weasley, Gryffindor; Oliver Wood, Gryffindor.”

“I was so afraid we were going to be on different teams,” Kurt let out a relieved breath, “Pity we have to share with Cho Chang.”

“She’s actually quite lovely once you get to know her,” Luna shrugged as if were the most obvious thing ever, this earned her a death stare from Hermione and Kurt but she made quick work of correcting her obvious mistake, “you know, for a man stealer.”

“I’m impressed by the save,” Hermione smiled broadly, patting her on the back, “we’ll corrupt you yet.”

“And you’ll be going to the library after hours as well,” Ernie spoke quick as a whip, “I’m trying to read out names here but by all means continue at the same leisurely pace.”

“Sorry,” the three of them chorused without a shred of guilt in their tone.

Ernie rolled his eyes, “As I was saying, Team two consists of: Tamsin Applebee, Hufflepuff; Katie Bell, Gryffindor; Marietta Edgecombe, Ravenclaw; Justin Finn-Fletchley, Hufflepuff; Finn Hudson, Hufflepuff; Duncan Iglebee, Ravenclaw; Neville Longbottom, Gryffindor; Heidi McAvoy, Hufflepuff; Ernie McMillan, Hufflepuff; Grant Paige, Ravenclaw; Harry Potter, Gryffindor; Malcolm Preece, Hufflepuff; Jason Samuals, Ravenclaw; Alicia Spinette, Hufflepuff; Ron Weasley, Gryffindor.”

There were a few disgruntled groans and sighs of relief, Kurt had never figured that this club was exclusive but based on the marginal drop in numbers after the names were read out he have might admit to being wrong; it was clear that word had gotten around that there was a rebellious undertone to the club and some might have heard that the club was an ‘in plain sight’ cover for the use of contraband. In the lieu of that discovery it was quite empowering to know that he was in the inner sanctum and part of a minority that technically didn’t qualify for the club but had concession made in their honour; which was one of the main reason he’d accepted the opportunity to study to become a Master of the Order of the White Lotus, it wasn’t the allure of something exclusive but the idea that something exclusive would seek him out and break it’s protocol in an effort to procure him.

Hermione hooked arms with Kurt and Luna, “let’s go play nice.”

“And if we have time, we can fit in some rugby as well,” Luna giggled, her voice high like a flute.

They had wondered over to the southern end of the field where Roger Davis and Oliver Woods were having a stand-off for leadership, Kurt thought this was ironic as neither had any prior experience with Rugby, but both boys felt their status as their house’s quidditch captain qualified them to do so.

“My teams gotten closer to the quidditch cup,” Oliver proclaimed; Kurt, Hermione and Luna exchanged a look and a giggle when he punctuated the statement with a small flex of his deltoids that the more unassuming eye might have confused for a shrug.

“Yes,” Roger gave him a condescending smile and patted him on the shoulder like he was a well-trained Labrador, “through the same series of plot conveniences that got you the house cup year before last, you simply come upon it with minimal planning by sheer luck.”

“Who needs planning when you’ve got talent?” Fred and George chorused their jeer.

Oliver shot them a disappointed look, “Come on guys, not exactly the message we’re trying to convey here.”

“It was your men who said it,” Roger had his hands raised to the heavens in dramatic gesture as if finally being heard, “we have some strong members and we need to utilise that, we’re on uncharted territory and we need a plan.”

Roger and Oliver were squared off at this point, they were standing chest to chest, “wouldn’t it be totally hot if they kissed?”

Kurt was surprised by Hermione’s question but he couldn’t disagree, “totally.”

“I second the motion,” Luna one hand over her heart and the other raised as if taking a pledge.

“Okay,” Angelina Johnson pulled the boys apart and killed their new fantasy, “neither of you even know how rugby works and we’re losing daylight, I on the hand am seasoned veteran.”

“Brilliant this girl, but she still won’t date me,” Lee Jordan shook his head and hung it in defeat.

“I’m still hung up on playing rugby,” Kurt’s eyes were wide and his jaw hung open in disbelief, “with that bone structure?”

“Do you think she’d do my hair like that?” Luna asked with equal awe, “I could pull off cornrows, couldn’t I?”

“Okay, listen and listen well,” Angeline spoke in a tone that silenced everyone and had all eyes on her, Kurt saw Cedric smirk and felt a small pang of jealousy, “I’m playing Fly-half. Which one of you fancies themselves as a decent kicker as well as reasonable catcher?”

There was silence and nobody spoke, Kurt took this as an opportunity to shine, “I have great hand-eye coordination so I should be able to catch well enough. As for kicking, if I can perfect an _arabesque en pointe_ then this is going walk in the park.”

“Kurt will be our full-back,” Angelina looked to be simultaneously making a mental note and announcing this to the rest of the team, “do I have any runners?”

Angelina made quick work of appointing all the positions, she followed this with a quick rundown of the rules, for some of the muggle born students this served as a refresher course and it served to bring those with next to no experience up to speed. The other team was still in discussion when Angelina positioned everyone in their starting posts, she went around to each player, explained their job and shared how she felt they could best achieve said job; Kurt thought this made for quite the effective style of leadership under the current circumstances. Upon the completion of that test they had reformed their huddle and she had shared a simple to understand strategy, once they understood their game plan they had ran a couple of practice drills; Kurt had taken this as an opportunity to practice his punting and field kicking skills, Angelina had helped him with his formation and he had managed rather well in his opinion if one considered that it was his first time.

~0~

_On the other side of school…_

“We are not friends,” Kurt announced as he stormed into the circular room, “but I want you to know that I’m a very forgiving person, with time and repeated apologies I most probably will move on from this.”

“Excuse me?” Professor Dumbledore gave him a bewildered look over moon crescent spectacles, “Mr Hummel, I’m not sure I know what you mean but I’m trying to do some Sudoku.”

“I don’t know why you don’t want me knowing about that diary but like I told you before Professor,” Kurt smiled and sat down opposite the man, “there isn’t anything in my head that I don’t know.”

“You have to understand the sensitivity of the situation,” Professor Dumbledore began to explain but Kurt raised a hand that commanded silence.

“Maybe if you’d discussed that with me and we’d come to some sort of concession on the matter,” Kurt was masking his genuine pain and betrayal, “I shared my fashion secrets with you and you tried to silence me.”

“I wasn’t trying to silence you, I was trying to protect you,” Professor Dumbledore countered, his tone wasn’t repentant but self-righteous and it only served to anger Kurt.

“If I’m the most powerful wizard of my age then why would I need to be protected?” Kurt shook his head in disbelief, “You’d think taking on Tom Riddle would have proved that I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“The questions you were asking were troubling,” Professor leaned forward and spoke to Kurt as if he were disciplining a child, “I wasn’t trying to protect you from Lord Voldemort or even Sirius Black; I was trying to prevent you from being seduced, as I once was, by dark magic.”

“If you think this isn’t about Lord Voldemort then you are a fool,” Kurt got to his feet and leaned over the desk, “I don’t know anything about that diary, I don’t know anything about how it’s made nor do I care, my worry is its sentience.”

“Sit down,” Professor Dumbledore was short with him.

Kurt shook his head, “I’m not sure I still take orders from you.”

“If you don’t sit then you’ll never know,” Professor Dumbledore shrugged.

Kurt gave hollow laugh, “In this game of cat and mouse you will be surprised to see who is the pray and who is the hunter, I don’t need you to know about the diary,” Kurt pulled out his time-turner and waved it before the man’s face, “I have all the time in the world and I specialise in making friends with all the right people.”

“You will do wise not to overestimate your reach,” Professor Dumbledore’s voice seemed to be level and more in the moment, “I will not have you thinking that you have the weight of the board behind you, remember that the Board of Trustees has no real power.”

“I’m not threatening you,” Kurt’s gaze narrowed, “All I’m saying is that if you’re trying to hide something then I’ll find out but if you’re trying to serve a noble cause then you should tell me before I jeopardise everything you’ve worked to protect.” There was a silence that stretched from here to the moon, between the two of them neither was willing to compromise, “I want you to know that I’m sorry I have to do this but-”

“I’m leaving you with no choice, I have diary and that makes you suspicious of me and my actions. You believe that I too might have fallen into the clutches of Voldemort as Ginny Weasley once did and you feel that is the only way you can justify such a grave betrayal on my part,” Professor Dumbledore was solemn for a moment, “But it is simply a lapse of judgement on my part, please sit down.”

“I’m afraid,” Kurt fell back into the seat, “if there was a chance I’d been tricked and the diary hadn’t been destroyed then I knew it was only a matter of time before Tom Riddle made you give it to me because he really wanted to have me as his own.”

“My actions too were driven by fear,” Professor Dumbledore let out a defeated sigh, “over the summer I procure information that has led me to understand that Tom Riddle asked questions similar to the ones you asked and received similar vague answers; in light of Harry’s status as a parselmouth as a result of his encounter with Lord Voldemort, I feared that this parallel was a result of your encounter with Tom Riddle.”

Kurt head fell into his hands in sudden realisation, “And you were trying to protect me.” Kurt took a deep steadying breath, “what did you find, do you know anymore about the diary than that it’s dark magic unlike any you’ve seen before?”

“Not a thing other than that whiff of an alleged conversation,” Professor Dumbledore slumped in his chair as if for the moment, he were defeated, “it is unclear to me with whom such a conversation was had. I was still rattled by this conversation when we first spoke this year and in retrospect I reacted in an unthinkable manner.”

“Well, you can eliminate Tom Riddle Snr because he was a muggle,” Kurt shrugged, he didn’t know why he would bring that up.

“How do you know that his father was name Tom Riddle as well?”

“In the Chamber of Secrets he and Harry had a conversation about it,” Kurt pointed out, “I assumed that because the memory is of a sixteen year old Tom Riddle then the conversation must have been with somebody he knew during or before his tenure at Hogwarts, I was eliminating one suspect.”

“Merlin’s beard,” Professor Dumbledore’s eyes widened, “I’ve been speaking to his followers when it might have just been an innocent but informed bystander.”

“You’re welcome,” Kurt smiled, “I’m more of an asset at full capacity; don’t worry about whether I’ll talk, I like to tell the whole story.”

~0~

The rugby match hadn’t run very long but it had been long enough for him to get grass stains on his short as well as grass in his hair; Kurt understood that it was part of the authenticity of the club but he couldn’t help but be upset by the necessity. The seniors had taken a few moments whilst everyone caught their breath to convert the rugby field into a marquee with ottomans, tall-boy tables and soft lighting.

“You play a lot of rugby?” Harry asked playfully as they found a spot for their group to sit, “You were something else out there, I hadn’t been expecting that.”

“My dad is an avid fan and it makes for great family friendly viewing,” Kurt explained with a giggle as he began work picking the grass out of Hermione’s hair, “I’ve seen enough to have a vague idea of what I was doing.”

“You’re telling me that you’ve never played?” Harry raised a doubtful brow, “why am I not convinced?”

“I haven’t played in a formal sense,” Kurt admitted, “but Finn played and we used to throw the ball around, nothing nearly as well organised as today.”

Hermione looked up at him, “you’re not bad.”

“I don’t think I’m bad at anything,” Kurt smiled as he thought it over, “I like being good at everything so I put a concerted effort into everything I do.”

“Being a genius just makes it easier,” Ron teased.

“Rowena Ravenclaw once said that wanting to do something is the first step, doing all in your power to do it was the key to excelling,” Luna didn’t look up from where she was braiding flowers into her hair, “Kurt simply took a page from the book of one of the wisest wizards in British history.”

“I always knew I liked her,” Kurt laughed as Ernie handed them all cans of beer, “And it’s not just because I hear her jewellery collection amazing.”

Kurt was startled by a large hand that came to rest on his shoulder, “you’ve got grass in your hair, may I help you out?”

“Of course,” Kurt let a satisfied smile fill his face for a second, “thank you.”

“Hold still and I might be able to do this without ruining your hair,” Kurt did as instructed, he hadn’t waited very long as Cedric worked quickly yet precisely, “there, I have restored it to its usual perfection.”

Kurt turned and smiled shyly, “I’m forever indebted to you kind sir.”

Kurt watched Cedric blush, “well, maybe you might allow me to take you out on our next Hogsmead visit.”

“It would be my pleasure,” it was Kurt’s turn to blush now, “accept this kiss as a place holder.”

Kurt elevated himself onto his toes and planted soft kiss on the taller boy’s lips, it lasted only a moment but it was as electric as their last kiss if not more so; Kurt suspected that he now knew exactly what Luna had meant when she’d called it ‘exchanging Goisinthinian bugs’ as Kurt had definitely felt two directional flow of whatever it was that was lingering on his lips. Cedric smiled and kissed him again, it lasted longer this time but the effect didn’t fade.

“Is it me or does that get better every time we do it?” Cedric whispered just for him to hear.

“How’s about you drink a beer instead of my brother,” Finn put a can of beer between them and they backed away from each other to see that they had commanded a small audience that was primarily made up of Kurt’s friends, “You have to buy Kurt dinner first.”

“Yeah,” Ron added as he gently pulled Kurt farther from Cedric but he couldn’t bring himself to protest, “Something, something, something, put a ring on it.”

“Maybe in another time,” Cedric gave him a small dimpled smile.

Kurt giggled, “maybe in another country.”

“Oh my gosh, I love that _Colin Firth_ movie,” Hermione squeaked before bringing her hand up to cover her mouth.

“Me too sweetheart,” Kurt grabbed her beer and taking a large sip of it, he held his ground and didn’t flinch at the less than pleasurable taste, “but this time there’s a happy ending.”


	7. Chapter 7

When Kurt got to Muggle Studies he was starving and he was sure that he had never been so glad that it was Wednesday before, when he had arrived Professor Burbage’s not-Mother handed him a devil’s food cupcake, “Mrs Markowitz, you make my life.”

“Oh, you are too kind Curtis,” she smiled broadly at him but suddenly her eyes widened, “Kurt Elizabeth, I’m so sorry my second husband was Curtis and he went by Kurt.”

“This cupcake makes me forgive you,” Kurt followed Hermione to their work station, on Wednesday when Mrs Markowitz’s was teaching the class was arranged in a row of five test kitchenettes, “Hermione, are you going to eat yours?”

“People might think you’re pregnant with that hunger,” Hermione tease as she ate her cupcake, “Why are you monstrously starving?”

“I’ve been up for forever and it’s been a while since breakfast,” Kurt groaned, “I had to practice for our charms prac between breakfast and Charms, which was like a lifetime ago. Besides, Cedric and I have been keeping it chaste until the third date.”

“Won’t that be like five months from now,” Hermione raised a confused brow.

“Exactly,” Kurt smiled devilishly, “He’s not getting to second base till then, and that’s based on how great a gift I get for Christmas.”

“In my day we waited for marriage,” Mrs Markowitz scolded from the front of the class, Hermione and Kurt blushed brightly, “but then again I was married before my nineteenth birthday. Today we begin to tackle the art of party planning; this exercise will start with budgeting then flow into muggle cuisine which will be followed by writing with a pen as well as the use of type writer and finally we will wrestle basic muggle etiquette, are there any questions?”

“How old were you when you married you second husband?” Finn asked with wriggle of his eyebrows.

“Oh, it was back when people raised their hands before speaking,” she gave a saccharine smile, “and children had complete names, Finn.” Kurt chuckled at her ladylike gibes, he loved the way she always had something reproachful to say but more so the way she managed to say it in the most polite manner. Mrs Markowitz began to write on the board, outlining the steps that she advised them to undertake, “Get to work.”

“Why are you so hungry?” Hermione tilted her head like Bomballerina often did when Kurt read to her, the look told him that what he was trying to communicate simply wasn’t going through, “what happened to energy bars you eat?”

“Carole didn’t send any this morning,” Kurt furrowed his brow as he scrawled the quick outline of a menu, “I might have sworn it wasn’t Wednesday when I didn’t get my standard package.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will be here before the day is through,” Hermione seemed to reassure him, “What do you have on your menu?”

Kurt smiled at her attempt to distract him from over thinking Carole’s transgression; “I have cheesecake as a starter, cheesecake for main and…” Kurt blushed at his realisation that his hunger had taken grip of him, “cheesecake for desert.”

“My menu is little more varied than yours, not that there is anything wrong with an all cheesecake meal,” Hermione took a moment from her criticism of Kurt’s cheesecake craving, “But I get where you’re going with this; have you considered maybe replacing the first cheesecake with by chance, a light salmon salad? And perhaps having coq au vin instead of the second cheesecake, but those are just a few ideas I had and I’m just throwing them out there.”

Kurt laughed, at first it was controlled and melodic like silver whistle but it soon escalated to a point of uncontrolled boisterousness, “this is so strange.”

“Not eating cheesecake as a meal? Carole’s cooking wasn’t actually that bad” Hermione raised a curious brow, “why is this entertaining you so much?”

“Also, you had her stroganoff and that’s the one thing she _can_ cook, her pot roasts taste like Finn’s shoes smell; when that’s your life, cheesecake will become a meal. It’s just,” Kurt took a break from laughing but his breathing was still staggered, “I’m taking twelve subjects but I still have time to read fiction because we are just being normal.”

“Thirty hour days aside,” Hermione quirked a brow.

“Thirty hour days aside,” Kurt laughed as they listed the ingredient and cost of their faux dinner party, “Although I didn’t sleep well yesterday it was because I was reading the last of _The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_ ; Hector is so right about that book, it is the best book ever written.”

“It was truly interesting,” Hermione’s cheeks perked up, “if not a tad juvenile.”

“But that’s the beauty of it,” Kurt jolted violently as he spoke, “Mr Douglas Adams gives a truly fascinating analysis of the human race and forks out unparalleled philosophy within the confines of story line that could entertain a five year old.”

“I feel that the point of the book was lost in the mess of childish frivolities,” Hermione said before lifting her hands in surrender, “but let’s agree to disagree. How ordinary of us, discussing a book that doesn’t eat people’s faces or tell us how to stop people’s faces from being eaten.”

“I think I missed _Harry Potter and the Dr Hannibal Lecter Curse_ ,” Kurt pursed his lips, “but I get what you mean, we are being pretty normal teens and it’s so refreshing; you have a boyfriend, I’m going to make my boyfriend official soon, Harry and Ron are doing reasonably well in school; we’re turning a corner this year and hopefully Voldemort isn’t waiting on the other side.”

“You say his name with such casualness,” Hermione looked reproachful.

“What? Dr Hannibal Lecter?” Kurt gave Hermione a blank stare, “just because he ate people doesn’t take away the fact that he was a qualified medical professional.”

“You know who I mean,” Hermione scolded.

Kurt pursed his lips, he’d never personally thought anything of his use of the name but rather chose when to use it based on the people in his periphery’s predicted reaction, “I don’t have a reason to be afraid, to me it’s just like saying the name of any other historic figure. Maybe if I’d lived through the tyranny of the time I’d feel differently but he’s gone so it doesn’t make sense to be afraid of something that can’t get me.”

“I can get you,” Mrs Markowitz smiled as she came up behind him, “so I advise you to get on with your work.”

“Mrs Markowitz,” Hermione smiled and looked at the woman, “When can we go into the pantry?”

“We’ll get to that next time, for today it’s just planning,” she gave polite and maternal smile, laying a gentle hand on each of their shoulders, “but be sure to coordinate completely, that includes place settings.” She moved to speak to the class at large, “you need to learn to understand the way things filter down from even the smallest details, without that you will never understand muggle ecology.”

“Do you not feel that your glee is slightly premature?” Hermione went on as soon as the elder woman was out of earshot, “Last year’s problems didn’t start till after Halloween-” Hermione stopped and furrowed her brow in profound contemplation, “Come to think of it, Professor Quirrel first went after the philosopher’s stone on Halloween.”

“And weren’t Harry’s parents attacked on Halloween? Seems to be a pattern,” Kurt’s eyes grew wide as he was writing invitations and place cards in his elaborately looped handwriting, “Does this mean I have to cancel my date because I’ve waited two years for him to ask me out.”

“No, Halloween is on Sunday but close enough,” Hermione shook her head dismissively, “besides, you said so yourself that he’s gone.” She seemed unsure of her words as they made their way over to the typewriter to prepare menus, “I expect Professor Trelawney will have some morbid predictions in store for us all the same.”

“Oh yes, give me the cup, give me the cup,” Kurt spoke in a wafty voice as he did an over the top impression of the Divination Professor, “child, it is not good; you are in grave danger of getting a poor result from lack of interest.”

“Heavens,” Hermione held the back of her hand to her forehead as if on the verge of fainting, “However shall I survive, seeing as your predictions are always so accurate.”

“Has anything she predicted come true?” Kurt raised a brow, “Neville says his Grandmother has never been better and what about Lavender, what happened to her on the fifteenth?”

“I think her rabbit died but that came as a shock to her which means she hadn’t been dreading it,” Hermione rolled her eyes as she sat down in front of the machine, “but that had been all the proof that Lavender and Pavarti had needed, they have been up in that tower whenever they can manage it which I’m not complaining about because it means they aren’t always giggling while I’m studying in our room. It’s all rather silly when you think about it, basing any decision on the all-seeing third eye of a woman who bumps into her table six times each lesson and has no written form of testing.”

“I’m sorry but could you believe that Tessomancy test?” Kurt’s eyes bulged in distaste, “I applied all of the practices of a true tessomance; I divided the cup into quadrants in relation to the cardinal points and read anticlockwise but I still got a ‘B’!”

“I also got a ‘B’!” Hermione huffed through gritted teeth, “if that had been an OWL then we would have scored an ‘exceeds expectations’!”

“I’d rather be dead,” Kurt scoffed.

“I’m going to be dead if you two don’t finish using the typewriter soon,” Mandy sneered.

“And the world will be the better for it,” Hermione grumbled as she typed furiously, “I wonder if I can count that toward my community service hours.”

“I’m sure they’ll award us The Order of Merlin,” Kurt giggled, they each shot a saccharine smile at the girl as he and Hermione got back to work. Kurt and Hermione had learned to be secretive during their time at Hogwarts, that was one of the prerequisites when one was wanting to sleuth about the school; the habit wasn’t any easy one to shake and they waited to return to their workstation before resuming conversation.

“Once you’re done with all the required tasks for today, you may go,” Mrs Markowitz smiled brightly as some of the students started packing their books, “but know that you will not get more time next time, there is no going back.”

Kurt and Hermione hooked up arms, leaving together, “You know we’re so married in an alternate universe right?”

“We have four kids,” Hermione nodded with a small giggle.

“They have my hair and your bone structure,” Kurt pulled at her cheek playfully.

“Would you leave my hair alone,” Hermione grabbed at her head defensively, “there’s definitely an alternate universe where you have wild curly hair.”

“That’s this universe,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “You keep it short and you use the right product then nobody is the wiser, how else do you think I could get it to do this?”

Hermione followed his finger to his perfectly formed hair, “I’ve seen the hairspray cans, try that on someone else.”

“Don’t be daft,” Kurt shot her a reprimanding look.

“Is it like Hal and Oats?” Hermione smiled villainously.

Kurt almost toppled over laughing, “if it was that bad, I would keep it shaved.”

“Did you guys find Professor Flitwick?” Ron asked as he and Harry came in from Care for Magical Creatures, Kurt and Hermione had run ahead to turn back the clock to Muggle Studies under the guise of wanting to discuss their test results with Professor Flitwick.

“No,” Kurt shrugged nonchalantly, “my guess is he’ll be easier to find after the school day is over, I just want to get to lunch.”

“Oh yes,” Neville teased as they took their seats in the great hall, “your monstrous hunger.”

“I’ve had a long day,” Kurt whined defensively.

“It’s one,” Harry pointed out in a neutral tone but Kurt heard it as an accusation.

“I totally understand where Kurt is coming from,” Ron slung his arm over Kurt’s shoulder, “you shorter folk wouldn’t understand.” Errol, the elderly owl, landed with the closest this he possessed to grace; falling vertically from a great height without knocking anything over, “about time The Daily Prophet got here, I was beginning to think Errol got lost.”

“It seems that for a change this poor creature hasn’t done anything wrong,” Hermione said as she pulled out a small bag of bird seed, “everybody’s getting theirs late.”

Ron’s eyes grew wide as he unfolded the paper, “Kurt, you’re on the cover again.”

“Is it a good picture?” Kurt smiled trying to get a look at the paper; it was the same picture except this time it was shown side by side with Sirius Black’s Azkaban mugshot. Kurt snatched the paper from Ron’s grip, “ _Black Spotted. In the waking hours of this morning Sirius Black III was spotted for the first time since his escape from Azkaban. Black was spotted by muggles in Dufftown, a small town in Northern Scotland, just east of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_.”

“Not very far east,” Hermione gasped nervously.

“It goes on to talk about the muggles who saw him,” Kurt skimmed over the article at speed, “where does it talk about me? Because I know I don’t have the kind of star power that sells papers with just a picture.” Kurt croaked the words as he tried to find his name, “Huh, here it is: _this reporter has been led to believe that Black is on his way to Hogwarts for a reunion with estranged son Kurt Hummel, who is rumoured to be in contact with Black_.”

“Estranged? Reunited?” Neville spat the words with distaste, “that git, everybody knows you never knew your birth parents, this paints it as if you simply lost contact instead-”

“Instead of being abandoned by some unknown DNA donor,” Kurt completed the sentence in a way he knew nobody else would but that’s how he’d come to see it; he might not have been abandoned, he’d been left with people who loved him very much, but he hadn’t exactly been forcefully separated from his birth parents.

“But you don’t think he’s coming here,” Hermione looked concerned.

“That would be the most reckless and foolish thing anyone could do,” Kurt said comfortingly, “He’s probably on his way south, trying to find passage out of the British Isles to somewhere he can live without persecution.”

“Well, we know that’s what you’d do,” Ron shrugged, “but Black is a mad man.”

“It’s what any self-respecting Slytherin would do,” Kurt countered, “we don’t wait around pursuing possibilities and looking for people who might be able to help us, we help ourselves.”

“And what makes you think Black was in Slytherin?” Hermione raised a quizzical brow.

“The Portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black in the Slytherin Dungeon always boasts about every Black having been in Slytherin for generations, several of them being head students,” Kurt’s tone was matter-of-fact before turning cold, “besides, don’t all bad wizards come from Slytherin?”

“Can’t fight that logic,” Ron shrugged, Hermione punched him in the arm, “present company excluded.”

“Besides,” Neville tried to divert the conversation and alleviate the tension, “why would he come here?”

“For me,” Harry grumbled, Neville paled as he realised that he’d put his foot in his mouth, “he lost everything when you-know-who was defeated.”

“And you think he’d risk losing it all over again just to whack a thirteen year old,” Hermione raised a brow, “seems reckless.”

“He is a ‘mad man’,” Ron pointed out, “reasoning isn’t exactly a top priority for the criminally insane.”

This time both Kurt and Hermione punched him, “eat your vegetables and be quiet.” Hermione seemed less than impressed, “we’re trying to soothe Harry, not scare him out of his mind.”

All eyes turned back to Harry, who shrugged, “I’m late for quidditch practice.”

“Honey,” Kurt gave a small smile as the boy walked away, “we still have double Herbology after this… there he goes Ronald, are you pleased with yourself?”

“I’m eating my vegetables,” Ron said defensively.

~0~

Kurt had been awaiting the coming monthly Hogsmead visit with great glee, he was finally going on a date with Cedric Diggory and soon enough they would declare themselves a couple and the rest would be history; Kurt had thought that the heavens had put an end to that when he had woken to a down pour of rain, it was coming down in buckets but Cedric had simply conjured a large red umbrella and put his fears at bay.

“You might have to walk closer to me if you don’t want to get wet,” Cedric gave Kurt a reassuringly innocent smile.

“So right,” Kurt tightened his scarf and moved closer as they stood in the castle’s main entrance, “I, unlike Gene Kelly, am susceptible to the woes of the elements.”

“Who?” Cedric gave him a look of clear confusion that immediately reminded Kurt of his wizard upbringing.

“He’s a very famous muggle,” Kurt explained as they walked briskly toward the gates.

Cedric didn’t seem anymore illuminated by Kurt’s curt explanation, “And he doesn’t get sick in the rain?”

“Well, he’s famous for film, which based on this weather you are going to become better acquainted with tomorrow,” Kurt spoke fluidly and without a breath, “one of his most famous roles was in _Singing in the Rain_ , one of the most iconic pieces of musical film of all time, and he has a big song and dance number in the rain.”

“Interesting,” Cedric seemed to mull what Kurt had said over, “Are you a big fan of music? I might have asked about Film but having never seen one I doubt I would make for a voluble match on the topic.”

“I do like music,” Kurt smiled at Cedric persistent effort to keep conversation within Kurt’s sphere of interest, “Very much so, what do you listen to?”

“I’m moderately enthusiastic fan of _The Weird Sister_ ,” Cedric admitted as if it were the biggest secret, “my father doesn’t approve of their more… artistic style.” Kurt looked down at his brightly coloured Versace coat and wondered if that meant that Mr Diggory would disapprove of him, “they’re too grunge for his comforts.”

Kurt felt that weight lifted and smiled, “I’m sure my father would disapprove as well but I’m embarrassed to say that I’m not familiar with their work, Rock has always been more of Finn’s thing.”

“What’s more your thing?” Cedric gave a small smile, “what is it you listen to? I think I’m overdue for my turn to be embarrassed by my limited scope of knowledge.”

“I like Celine Dion,” Kurt blushed lightly, “When I was younger my Oma used to listen to her French albums when she visited us and I took a liking to it, she recently crossed over to English after ten years of singing in French.” What Kurt was saying didn’t seem to register with Cedric, “You’ve never heard of her, what about Phil Collins? Elton John? Queen?”

“I’ve heard of The Queen,” Cedric’s face lit up, “but I didn’t know she made music.”

“Different Queen,” Kurt giggled, discussing the muggle world with Cedric was like talking to someone from a foreign land, he didn’t know much of Kurt’s way of life and Kurt found that he didn’t know much of his way of life, “but I think we’re making progress.”

“I don’t think they play very many muggle musicians on the Wireless,” Cedric laughed.

“And I doubt _The Weird Sisters_ are making the pop charts,” Kurt laughed as they came to a stop in front of the tea shop that he had come to with Terry, he waited for Cedric to say something but he simply moved to open the door for Kurt, “Don’t.”

Kurt stopped him, “I thought it was good manners universally.”

“It is,” Kurt nodded then his words caught in his throat as he tried to figure out how to word this; he settled on being frank, if Cedric couldn’t handle that then maybe they were incompatible, “I hate this place.” Cedric’s eyebrows shot up but he didn’t speak, “I hate the décor, I hate the pretentious atmosphere and most of all I hate the nosey staff.”

Cedric smiled, “How do you feel about _The Three Broomsticks_?”

“I’ve never been,” Kurt admitted, “but I’m open to trying new things but no leather bars.”

“I promise,” Cedric smiled, “no leather bars.”

Kurt and Cedric walked down Main Street under their umbrella, the rain had eased up but they stood close to each other anyway as they strolled through the chilly Saturday morning air, “Has Finn ever told you of our excursion to Language?”

“He has not,” Cedric gave an inviting look and that been all Kurt needed and began to recount the events of that night, omitting the incidence with the tanned, bearded, New Castle native who called him a ‘bird’ so as not to incite unnecessary jealousy, “And what do your parents think of your cousin’s exotic tastes?”

“When you’re related to the people we’re related to then you learn not to pass judgement,” Kurt laughed along with Cedric, “I can count on one hand the times I’ve seen my Oma sober for more than twenty-four hours.”

“That sounds healthy,” Cedric joked.

“It’s just like someone who smokes,” Kurt explained in defence of his Oma as they seated themselves in the crowded pub, “they do it a couple of times a day, she’s the same but with bourbon.”

“Cedric Diggory,” the waitress came over and smiled broadly at them, “how’s that father of yours?”

Cedric seemed uncomfortable for a moment but answered none the less, “he’s well.”

“Do pass my wishes on,” the woman smiled broadly; Kurt eyed her up and down, taking note of her corset that made her look more like a cancan dancer than a waitress, “be sure to tell him that I said it’s been too long.”

Up till this point Kurt had been silently observing but couldn’t bide his curiosity any longer, “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met;” Kurt extended an inviting but cold hand, “Kurt Hummel.”

“Madam Rosmerta,” she took Kurt’s hand in such a way as to suggest she expected a kiss on the hand, Kurt gave it an aloof shake.

Kurt gave a slight acknowledging raise of his brow, “A pleasure, I’m sure. We’ll call for you when we’re ready to order.” Kurt punctuated the sentence with a tight lipped smile.

The woman chose to pay Kurt as much mind as he paid her as she turned and left their table, Cedric chuckled and shook his head spastically, “that wasn’t a waitress, she owns the place.”

“You say that like it should mean something to me,” Kurt smiled devilishly, “If I’d offended her we’d have a lifetime ban by now.” Kurt took one of the boy’s larger hands in both of his, running the pad of his thumb over the knuckles as he spoke, “tell me, what about these hands made you quidditch captain?”

“You’re the one taking divination,” Cedric teased him, “shouldn’t you be the one reading my palm?”

“We haven’t studied palm reading yet,” Kurt giggled as Cedric waved over a waitress, “but if you decide to drink scalding black tea without a strainer then I could read your tea leaves with up to seventy-seven percent accuracy.”

“Impressive,” Cedric nodded.

“Don’t patronise me,” Kurt scowled.

“You’re doing much better than most,” Cedric’s smile showed Kurt that he was being honest, the boy turned to the waitress, “Can we have two butter beers and a cup of black tea with the tea leaved left in the cup.”

“You seriously want me to read your tea leaves?” Kurt scoffed, “Professor Trelawney has frequently hinted that Hermione and I do not possess the sight.”

“Well, I believe in your abilities as a seer,” Cedric used his free hand to enclose both of Kurt’s hands, “besides, they moved our fixture up due Draco Malfoy’s injury; we’re up against Gryffindor next week and Oliver Woods wants to win the quidditch cup before graduating. If you can aide my debut as captain and seeker by telling me where the snitch is going to be then I might be very grateful, I might be in your debt.”

“Oh, you over estimate my abilities,” Kurt laughed before he switched to his impression of Professor Trelawney, “the art of divination is about the mastery of slight observations and being completely vague, if possible say things as they happen.”

“Why did you even take that class?” Cedric managed to ask between fits of laughter.

“It was a mixture of curiosity and the fact that my friends were taking it,” Kurt shrugged, sipping from his tankard of butter beer; the taste of the warm frothy liquid was sweet and buttery like butterscotch candy, Kurt hadn’t been expecting that, “Wow, calling it beer is so misleading.”

“Don’t you like it?” Cedric looked distraught by the prospect of having misjudged the situation, “I presumptuously ordered it for you, it’s generally very popular.”

“I don’t hate it but it’s lacking something,” Kurt thought about how to word his thoughts, “it needs something to offset the sweetness, bring it down from the rafters, possibly lemon juice or Oma’s Boozy Fruit Slab.”

“I’m not sure they have your grandmother’s fruity slab but I’m sure we could get you some lemon slices,” Cedric waved over a waitress and put in the request on Kurt’s behalf, “Not one for sweet things, I’ll have to take not of that.”

“I like a little complexity of flavour,” Kurt said with a small smile, he’d have cramps in his cheeks when the day was through because he never smiled this much on an ordinary day, “I prefer dark chocolate over milk chocolate because I enjoy the bitterness but I’ll almost always pair it with nougat.”

“So you don’t like sweet things?” Cedric had doubtful expression, “for someone with a sweet tooth I find it hard to wrap my head around that.”

“It’s not really that big a deal but to be honest I’m just not that big a fan,” Kurt shook his head, “except for Turkish Delights, I can understand why Edmund sold his soul to Jadis for that shit.”

“Who?”

“They’re characters from this book series I read as a child,” Kurt explained, “Jadis is an evil witch who seduces a young human boy with her beauty and Turkish Delights.”

Cedric seemed weary of what he was being told, as if he had to take it with a pinch of salt, “Dark.”

“Of course, the book is a metaphor for religion and with that comes temptation from all of the seven deadly sins,” Kurt explained in a matter-of-fact tone before realising that this was probably going over Cedric’s head, “And you’re from a world where religion isn’t a thing.”

“I’m smart,” Cedric teased, tracing lazy squiggles into sensitive skin on the inside of Kurt’s wrist, “it’s like being with someone from another land, pity you don’t speak another language because that would make this much more interesting.”

“ _I speak French_ ,” Kurt giggled lightly.

“ _but I too speak French_ ,” Cedric countered.

“ _Not very well_ ,” Kurt one upped him by bypassing the German and going straight for the Parseltongue, he had mastered speaking it at will by picturing a snake and then like any other language it would happen all on its own.

“Parseltongue?” Cedric raised his hands in surrender, “you win.”

“I do,” Kurt preened in the victory, “but you blindsided me on that French.”

“My father encouraged it,” Cedric shrugged, “He said an effective healer is able to communicate in more than one language.”

“A healer?” Kurt raised an impressed brow, “You wouldn’t happen to be Jewish as well because every parent aspires for their child to become or marry a Jewish doctor.”

“Don’t know what ‘Jewish’ is but for you I could be,” Cedric flashed a bright white smile.

“You’re just adorable,” Kurt teased him, “A handsome doctor with perfect hair… that would make great character on TV show.”

Cedric leaned back, “Sometimes I feel like you might as well be speaking in Parseltongue because your thought pattern is impossible to follow.”

Kurt grabbed the empty tea cup, “the leaves say you should be nicer to me because it makes sense in my head.”

“The tea leaves are rather wise,” Cedric gave a deep chuckle and Kurt watched with fascination as his arms bulged through his sleeves as he laughed, “And surprisingly accurate, I’ll do well to heed their warning.”

“I am but an instrument for the divine,” Kurt said in his ever improving impression of Professor Trelawney.

“You’re getting really good at that,” Cedric shuddered.

“If only I was as good at divination as I am at imitating the teacher.”

Cedric grabbed Kurt’s hands and held the cup between both of their hands, “I’m sure you’ll do well enough, you might not know this but I have a bit of a gift for this.”

Kurt could feel a blush creeping up the nape of his neck as he looked into Cedric’s soft inviting eyes, “right you are, I won’t be bested by a make believe magical discipline.”

For Kurt dating as a whole was new experience and his only other experience had been so different yet in the same breath, more of the same; they smiled, held hands and talked but the energy and intention made for a polarized experienced. When Kurt had gone out with Terry it had by all definitions been a date in every sense, they had shared a meal, gotten to know each other through Q&A and they held hands; it had been just as one expected a date to be. With Cedric it was different; they were in what Kurt suspected was the underbelly of the wizarding world, they had each gotten a tankard of butter beer, and were casually enjoying each other’s company. This felt more real for Kurt, granted this was an actual date.

The day had moved outside of time, the tankards had piled up but they were so engrossed in each other that it seemed no time had passed when they were ripped from their sphere of suspended time when Madam Rosmerta had rang a bell and announced last call for Hogwarts students; it was so none of the students were late returning to school. The rain had stopped when they stepped out of the pub, it had accumulated on the ground in cold puddles of slush, and in its place there was a biting breeze; Kurt wrapped his scarf around himself tightly as he walked arm in arm with Cedric down Main Street back toward the Hogwarts grounds.

“ _His return is almost upon us, heed the whispers_!” A thin man in oversized worn clothing was standing on the edge of town, Kurt hadn’t noticed the man coming into town but maybe that was because he was too preoccupied trying to get out of the rain; the man was soaked and his fingers were blue, Kurt stopped dead in his tracks.

“What’s his story?” Kurt started to move closer to the man, Cedric looked confused for a moment, “Why is he just standing there?”

“He’s always been there for as long as I’ve been coming to Hogsmead,” Cedric treaded carefully, unsure what Kurt wanted from him or the strange man, “except for last year, I thought they’d carted him off to St Mungo’s. He just stands there barking randomly at people as they walk by.”

“Hi,” Kurt approached the man carefully, making sure that his wand was within reach should this go lopsided, “are you alright?”

“ _You who shall most shame your mother must most fear his return_ ,” the man’s voice was a croaky whisper with a distinct timbre.

“Nice try but my mother’s dead,” Kurt’s gaze narrowed, “I ‘shall’ not do anything further to her.”

“ _Heed the whispers_ ,” the trembling man warned.

Kurt took off his coat and threw it over the man’s shoulders, “But just because you’re off your rocker doesn’t mean you aren’t fucking cold, this is dry clean only so be careful.”

“ _Beware the dark_ ,” The man held on to Kurt’s face with frozen fingers, “ _Beware he who is named twice named. For as they have once, they shall again_.”

Kurt tried to pry the hands off his face but froze when he noticed the man’s bare feet, “take these.” Kurt took his shoes off and laid them on the ground as best he could whilst in the man’s grip, “don’t machine wash them, they’re hand painted Hermès.”

“You’re giving him all your stuff?” Cedric looked concerned.

“I have lots of stuff and I can afford to replace it,” Kurt pried the hands off him and dug in his purse for his money bag, he stuffed a handful of large gold coins into the pocket of the coat, “And since you paid for our drinks it’s only fair I put my allowance to good use, this man might be crazy but he might still be homeless and cold, winter is hard when you’re a have not.”

“Wow,” Cedric seemed too surprised by his compassion for Kurt’s comfort, “I’m not surprised you care, I’m surprised you would do something as impulsive as giving away your shoes when there’s still a muddy walk back to the castle.”

“I’ll shower, I have that luxury,” Kurt smiled as they walked away from the man who stood mumbling to himself in the same hoarse whisper, Kurt looked back and wondered if there was anybody who cared that the man was out in the cold or if he was alone in the world.

“I feel like I should offer to carry you,” Cedric held his arms out.

“Not bridal style,” Kurt protested as he climbed on for a piggyback ride, “giddy up good looking, it’s cold outside.”

~0~

“How did you two get away with coming back late?” Hermione asked as they stood in the entrance hall after dinner, they were about to separate, they had each excused themselves early due to not being up for dinner; after an invigorating game of hockey and too many light beers, Kurt had insisted Finn offer them due to how filling ordinary beer was, they were both more than a little buzzed and too full to eat.

“I have friends in low places,” Kurt wriggled his brow, “and the school bylaws allow for a student to arrive up to an hour outside the anointed Hogsmead visitation allowance if he or she is accompanied by a school prefect.”

“And you dating a school prefect allowed for your transgression to be glossed over,” Hermione poked at his ribs, “Tell me what held you up.”

“We weren’t hooking up in the bushes if that’s what you’re thinking,” Kurt said dismissively, he pulled Hermione in close because he didn’t want the world to hear this, “have you ever seen the man that stands on the edge of Main Street?”

“Can’t say I have,” Hermione gave it a moment more’s thought before confirming it with a shake of her head, “Why?”

“Well, I don’t think he’s all there,” Kurt pointed to his head, “Like Professor Trelawney isn’t all there but he was barefoot and freezing so I gave him my shoes and coat, he thanked me with a few phony prophecies.”

Hermione raised a curious brow, “you walked back in your socks?”

“Of course not,” Kurt smiled devilishly, “Cedric carried me.”

“And what did Professor McGonagall think of that,” Hermione matched his facial expression.

“She was more concerned about my state of dress but I set the record straight,” gave a small smile, “if anyone understood why I’d done it would be her.”

“I might not know why but I understand,” Hermione assured him, they slipped into a comfortable silence for a moment as they sat on the deserted grand staircase. People started leaving dinner in drips and drabs at first but soon started flowing more quickly as they sat leaning on each other, when Ron and Harry had emerged Hermione had gotten to her feet, “see you in the library tomorrow during breakfast and at breakfast too, depending on which happens first.”

“Bye love,” Kurt had gone the other way, climbing down the stairs and following the corridor toward the Slytherin dungeon. Kurt knew that he was in relatively good shape but he hadn’t played hockey like that in almost three years and he was sure that he would feel it in the morning, mostly in his arms, but he wouldn’t take it back because whilst he was on that field he had felt like he had back when he just young boy from Islington.

“Did you have fun in the abomination of a club with your boyfriend Potty?” Draco sneered at him from one of the black leather couches; the group of third year girls gave a shrill unison laugh, like seagulls on deserted beachfront.

The vultures began to circle, Millicent offered the next insult, “Or is it Weasel you cling to?”

Kurt shut them out and go to his dorm for some rest but Vincent Crabbe was in his way, if one knew Crabbe’s great size then one knew that when he blocked your way there was no space left to get around him, “I heard it was both.”

The large boy had moved in close to speak, Kurt had been treated to a combo smell of tonight’s lunch and dinner, “ever hear of a mint?”

The boy growled but didn’t speak, Kurt went through these motions frequently enough; the third years would circle and try to take a bite at him like a pack of hungry coyotes, he had to bare his teeth and remind them that he could bite.

“When will you get it through your skull that you don’t belong here?” Daphne narrowed her gaze, she had decided to bring the blood status issue early in the conversation, “your kind don’t belong at Hogwarts, let alone in Slytherin.”

“Probably when you realise that you don’t have boobs and stop fooling yourself with that empty bra,” Kurt had an air of indifference that added to the bite of his words, “but I guess we’re both hard to learn.”

“Mudblood,” Millicent sneered at him, “that’s what you are and you need to learn your place.”

Kurt was silent; the pejorative term didn’t mean anything to him but the intention infuriated him but he did not rise, at least not yet. They all laughed, some harder than others but Draco took his silence as open season, “Waiting for Goyle to come to your defence?”

“No,” Kurt spoke sharply, he was going to cut off the snakes head and it wasn’t going to grow another, “I, unlike you, don’t need to have my battles fought for me. I’m the motherfucking main attraction and I don’t hide behind my father’s cheap extensions like you do but if I were you I’d find myself a champion who isn’t so easily scared off. So why don’t you nurse your little scrape and shut up.”

The common room was silent, “Are you quite done Mr Hummel?”

Kurt turned to see professor Snape, “No, I’m sure there were still a few good insults left but I’ll resign to my quarters.”

“Not tonight,” Professor Snape clapped his hands and it reverberated through the dungeon calling all students, “it seems that the castle has been compromised, Sirius Black has been here and the headmaster believes that it is in all of you best interest to camp out in the great hall whilst the castle is searched.”

“What was he doing here Hummel?” Pansy jibbed, Kurt was glad to hear from her as he lived in fear that he had gone too far with their last public stand-off.

“Black attempted to enter the Gryffindor Common Rooms,” Professor Snape answered the question regardless of the fact that it had been directed at Kurt, “It appears that when the Fat Lady refused him entrance, he slashed her portrait.”

Kurt raised his hand and Professor Snape gestured for him to continue, “Wait, I don’t understand something, he tried to get into one of the house common rooms but failed and you think it’s wise to remove all the students from their common rooms and put us in a general area why?” For the first time, nobody in the common room protested what Kurt was saying, “I also hate to be insensitive but doesn’t this sound like a Gryffindor problem? Why do we have to sleep on the ground? I think even they’d be safer in their dormitories.”

“Mr Hummel,” The man moved so close that his greasy hair hung inches from Kurt’s face, “I suggest you direct all those questions to Professor Dumbledore when you see him but till then I, just like you, serve at the pleasure of the headmaster.”

“Yes sir,” Kurt nodded rigorously.

“I suggest everyone get what they’ll need for the night so that I may escort you to the great hall,” Professor Snape swept a gaze over the crowd and the students dispersed with great speed, “you too Mr Hummel.”

Kurt had sped off to his room; he had filled Bomballerina’s bowl even though she wasn’t in the room just in case she came back here because she hadn’t gotten the memo, he changed into his pyjamas and grabbed his book bag before leaving her note which in retrospect served no purpose because she couldn’t read. Professor Snape had given the prefect strict instructions and urged them to be vigilant, Peeves appeared beside Kurt with a toothy grin.

“What is it Peeves?” Kurt asked as the Poltergeist floated beside him silently.

“Your father was here,” Peeves chuckled, “Strange that you didn’t tell him you weren’t Gryffindor, did you think he’d be disappointed you were just like the rest of his family?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Kurt shrugged, “but I am surprised you can read.”

“Don’t insult me,” Peeves spat at him, “I’m a restless spirit, not illiterate.”

“I just mean that…” Kurt considered sugar coating it but realised Peeves wouldn’t offer him the same courtesy, “no, I genuinely didn’t think anyone as simple minded as you would have the brain power necessary for reading.”

Peeves gave Kurt an angry look but Kurt simply tapped his finger on the Slytherin crest, a reminder of his supposed relation to The Blood Baron, “I’m never gossiping with you ever again.”

“Bye Peeves,” Kurt waved with condescend with the thin man’s word ringing in his head, ‘ _Beware the dark_ ’ because what was darker than black? There was only one thing louder right now, that was how much Kurt hated Halloween.


	8. Chapter 8

“Look at her hanging all over him,” Kurt scrunched up his nose in distaste, “You’d think subtlety was a foreign concept to her; she obviously doesn’t need help in Herbology, she’s one of the smartest people in our year.”

“I doubt Ron would be of much assistance even if she was struggling,” Neville gave a mousey shrugged before tending to their Mongolian carnivorous flower after receiving a reproachful stare from Kurt.

“Sounds to me like Kurt’s jealous,” Hermione smiled wickedly, wagging her brow for effect.

“I most certainly am not jealous of Lisa Turpin and her luxurious strawberry blond hair,” Kurt stamped his foot on the soft loamy floor of greenhouse two, “Ron can run off into the sunset and have a football team of red haired children with whomever he pleases and I would care less. That didn’t come out right,” Kurt crossed his arms indignantly, “but as his very close friend; it is my job to look out for his best interest and I don’t trust her, that hair came from a bottle.”

“She’s bald?” Neville exclaimed with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

“No,” Kurt raised a concerned brow, not understanding how Neville had made that great leap, “she totally dyed her hair and it shows.”

“You and Ron need to establish some boundaries,” Hermione scolded with a small giggle, “this back and forth petty jealousy can’t be healthy.”

Kurt looked affronted by what Hermione was implying, “there most certainly is nothing ‘petty’ about anything I do, I will tell you the same thing I once told Seamus and that is that you should never diminish anything I do by adding little bit or petty or any such.”

“Besides, Kurt doesn’t do jealousy,” Finn squeezed himself into the group, “Believe me I tried.”

“Believe me when I say I’ve seen it,” Hermione condescended toward the taller boy before realising the possible illicit implications of what she was saying, “the jealousy, I mean.”

“And that is all she’s seen of me,” Kurt held his hands up defensively, Kurt turned to Finn with an irritated huff for where he had inadvertently led the conversation, “what can I do for you?”

“I haven’t finished any of my muggle studies assignments,” Finn paused for a moment, giving Kurt a nervous and toothy grin, “let’s be honest, I haven’t started. I was wondering if you and Hermione could lend us your outlines.”

“Did you read the book?” Hermione quirked an inquisitive brow, crossing her arms over her chest expectantly.

“No,” Finn scratched at the back of his neck nervously before slinging an arm over Hermione and Kurt’s shoulders in an effort to establish some camaraderie and play on their sympathies with a flawless puppy-dog pout, “we did read a summary.”

Kurt shook and bowed his head in disappointment, “You can’t use our outline if you’ve read the book once, let alone not at all.”

“I was busy with the Muggle Activities Club and Quidditch,” Finn frowned as he crossed his arms in an effort to strengthen his defence.

“This isn’t the country club,” Kurt scolded with a wag of his finger, “this is school and your priority should be to learn first and foremost, if need be all extracurricular activities must fall to the wayside.”

“The book wasn’t even that long,” Hermione had her fists balled on her hips, “it took me five hours to read it from cover to cover and take notes; we’ve had two weeks to read it, that’s twenty minutes reading per day.”

“You know,” Finn tilted his head and smirked at them, “if I wanted a lecture, I would have asked a question in Professor Binns’s class but as it is I wanted help in my hour of need.” Finn was on the offense now, pointing at each of them accusingly as he spoke, “Besides, the lot of you weren’t complaining about my dedication to my extracurricular when you were drinking beer and flirting with senior boys.”

“Don’t bring me into this,” Neville held his hands up in surrender, “I don’t even take muggle studies.”

Kurt and Hermione rolled their eyes and looked at each other before beginning to chorus an answer, “We’re meeting in the library to study for the upcoming transfiguration test and to get our Arithmancy charts out of the way after di-” they paused, the plan was to go back in time after dinner to just after lunch so they could get all their weekend homework out the way whilst they spent time with their respective boyfriends, “defence against the dark arts.”

“It never stops being scary when you do that,” Neville gulped.

“I can talk to Finn with my mind,” Kurt looked Finn up and down, ‘your fly is open.’ The taller boy bent over to check but there was nothing amiss, “I’m also a very good liar.”

Neville rolled his eyes, “What more could I expect from somebody who is frequently accused of being devil spawn?”

“Expecting any different would be expecting too much,” Hermione teased.

“But that’s what you love about me,” Kurt gave a hearty and wicked chuckle, “I can make the good folk bad for a weekend.”

They all shared in the laughter of friendship and youth, Finn kissed both Kurt and Hermione on the cheek and whispered a thank you before retreating to the company of his friends. Hermione, Kurt and Neville turned back to the plant they were tending; taking notes and observing the plant as it snapped wistfully at the empty air, it’s aggressive nature juxtaposing the beauty of its velveteen red petals that reminded Kurt of the roses his grandmother grew in Sheffield.

Harry leaned over from where he stood beside Dean and Seamus around a plant of their own, “Why does your plant have red petals?”

“It’s supposed to have red petals,” Neville furrowed his brow, clearly unsure what might possessed Harry to ask such daft question. They all peered round to the flower the three boys had been breeding all term and were shocked by what they saw, “but I’m sure blue is fine too.”

“And yours does appear to be stronger than ours judging by the thickness of that stem,” Kurt tried to console him whilst stifling a laugh, “You’ve obviously been feeding it right which means there’s something wrong with your soil or watering patterns.”

“Well, we water it every lesson,” Seamus looked pleadingly at their trio as he hoped they would be able to rescue their project, “and we grew it in acidic soil.”

“But I told you it was alkaline soil with an ash compost,” Dean scolded.

“No,” Harry shook his head, “You said acidic.”

“The book says alkaline soil,” Kurt pointed out.

“It was Dean’s job to read the book,” Seamus pointed an accusatory finger, “if I have to feed it then you were supposed to read.”

“I did read,” Dean argued, “it’s not my fault you didn’t listen.”

“I didn’t listen,” Seamus puffed his chest up and gawked at his friend, “maybe weird accent, I might have understood what you were saying.”

“You’re telling me about accent,” Dean Scoffed, “that’s the kettle calling the pot black.”

“I didn’t say anything about you being black,” Seamus raised his hands defensively.

“It’s an idiom, you idiot,” Kurt and Hermione chorused in disbelief.

“Don’t you two start with me,” Seamus warned them, earning him a condescending giggle from the pair.

“Can you help us?” Harry looked pleadingly from Kurt to Hermione to Neville. Kurt and Hermione shrugged, they knew what was in the book and it didn’t account for major disasters, “Neville?”

Neville let out a nervous throaty wail before clearing his throat and composing himself, “if you used acidic soil then you need to alkalise the plant, use a baking soda solution until the petals begin to turn colour, then stop or it’ll die.”

“Right,” Professor Sprout announced as she re-enter the greenhouse, “That’s all the time you’ll be having today, please be sure to pack up your stuff and to leave nothing unattended. Dismissed third years.”

Kurt picked up his textbooks and slipped them carefully into his tote; he took off his black dragon hide gloves and placed them in a Ziploc bag that he placed in a larger Ziploc bag with the rest of his Herbology equipment. Kurt, Hermione and Neville were probably the only students who weren’t climbing over each other to get to Professor Lupin’s Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson; it wasn’t from a lack of interest or enthusiasm, they did enjoy the man’s lessons, but rather from the common sense that they had no need to rush as their seats would be waiting for them whether they were first to arrive or last.

Unlike every lesson they’d had before, Professor Lupin wasn’t waiting to greet them but rather they took their seats as they waited for the man to emerge from his office and offer them an enthralling lesson on redcaps and hinkypunks. Their class sat in sociable noise for the good part of five minutes while they waited to be educated, Draco attempted to antagonise Harry with taunts about his upcoming quidditch match; it was something along the lines of lightning attracting lightning, he obviously thought it was a clever way to make fun of Harry’s scar and the fact that his own over acting had spared Slytherin from playing in such foul conditions, but Kurt had corrected this misconception by pointing out that lightning was often of the same charge and as such would repel each other.

“You can seize the foolish and nonsensical wand waving,” Professor Snape stormed into Professor Lupin’s Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, with a slight flick of his wand all the shutters closed and plunged the classroom into a darkness, “The talking can go with it. Open your books to page three hundred and ninety-four.”

“Excuse me sir,” Harry asked Professor Snape as he was rolling down the projection screen at the front of the class, “Where’s Professor Lupin?”

“Not really any of your business Potter,” Professor Snape sneered between stained yellow teeth, “just know that your professor is incapable of teaching, at the present time.” Kurt was suspicious of the pacing of that statement, it was a well concealed insult to the attentive listener, “Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four!”

“Werewolves?” Ron asked shakily as the pages in his book were turned forcefully by a flick of Professor Snape’s wrist.

 “We’re not meant to start nocturnal beasts for weeks,” Hermione panicked, “I haven’t prepared for this lesson.”

“Oh look,” Draco pointed with a smarmy smirk, “Weasley and Granger are afraid.”

“Please, I still remember you practically pissed yourself at the mention of werewolves in first year,” Hermione chortled with a wiggle of her brow, “I think somebody doth protest too much.”

“It’s a substitute lesson,” Kurt stroked her hair as he assured her, ignoring her back and forth banter with Draco, “it doesn’t really count for anything.”

“When you two are done I would like to carry on with the lesson,” Both Kurt and Hermione blushed, having been caught out. Professor Snape turned on the projector and a series of slides depicting werewolves in ancient times began to lazily circle, “Now who can tell me the difference between a werewolf and an animagus?” Hermione and Kurt’s hands shot up, just because they hadn’t prepared for this lesson didn’t mean they hadn’t already read that far ahead, “No one? How disappointing.”

“Please sir,” Hermione was frantic in her efforts to be noticed and called upon but Professor Snape continued to ignore them, Hermione decided to answer anyway, “An animagus is somebody who has undergone strenuous training in a branch of transfiguration in order to gain the skill that allows them to transform themselves into an animal at will but remain sentient. A werewolf is forced to transform at every full moon and has no recollection of who he is, he might kill his best friend if they crossed paths.”

“This is due to the Lycanthropy virus which one contracts when they are bitten by a werewolf and survive,” Kurt continued where Hermione left off, “this virus bonds with the cells in the body and causes them to mutate over the period between the Waxing Gibbous and Waning Gibbous phases of the moon.”

“Speaking out of turn, five points from each of you,” Professor Snape scowled at them both, “is there anything you’d like to add?”

“A werewolf cannot understand human speech under normal circumstances, they only respond to the call of other werewolves,” Kurt blurted out, he had read _Things That Go Bump in the Night_ and wasn’t going to short change himself, Malfoy howled.

“Thank you Mr Malfoy,” the blond haired boy had a smarmy sneer on his face, Professor Snape now stood in the isle between Kurt and Hermione, “Under normal circumstances?”

He was waiting for them to trip up and they wouldn’t give him that satisfaction; Hermione answered the question, “When the Wolfsbane Potion is ingested accordance with the strict guidelines, a werewolf will retain some dexterity and sentience; nullifying their threat to the innocent.”

“What is the main ingredient in Wolfsbane Potion?”

“You asked this question slightly differently on our first potions lesson,” Kurt smiled broadly, “the monkshood flower, which is extremely poisonous. Before you ask, the potion was invented by Order of Merlin First Class recipient and famed Potioneer Damocles Belby.”

“How lovely it must be to be an insufferable know-it-all,” Professor Snape drawled with a nod that showed the pair that they had managed to mildly impress the potions master, “in an effort to remedy the ignorance that plagues a majority of this class I want you to write a two thousand word essay on lycanthropy and how to identify it, on my desk Monday morning.”

“But sir,” Harry whined, “there’s quidditch tomorrow.”

“Well then I suggest you get to work immediately,” there was an air of malevolence about his speech, “loss of limb won’t excuse you. I suppose you brought it on yourself, if you and your peers had shown as much enthusiasm with regards to this lesson and the subject matter as this pair of malapert witlings then this essay wouldn’t be necessary; everyone must submit and nobody is exempt.”

“Hummel was right about the lot of you Gryffindors,” Draco sneered across the classroom, Kurt was surprised to hear his name and to have Draco Malfoy agreeing with anything he’d said, “You’re all a bunch of snivelling babies who like to make your problems into everybody’s problems.”

“I didn’t say that,” Kurt waved his hands defensively.

“As I recall you did,” Professor Snape tilted up his chin with a light flip of his greasy hair.

His friends turned to look at him with wide eyes, “that was a poor paraphrase and the context was completely different.” But there appeared to be no convincing them, “whatever.”

~0~

Kurt plopped himself down between Ron and Harry, they had been avoiding him for a good part of the last twenty-four hours and they were overdue for a piece of his mind. Both boys moved to get up and leave but he held them in place, “Stay.”

“Really?” Ron raised a brow, “You're sitting at the Gryffindor table?”

“Don’t start a ‘Really?’ war with me because you will lose,” Kurt’s tone was flat but the intensity radiating from his gaze spoke volumes of how angry he was with the pair, “I should have had this conversation with you yesterday but I was busy.”

“Good to know you prioritise,” Harry grumbled, “how was your date with Cedric?”

“I wouldn’t call it a date but it was lovely, thanks for asking,” Kurt smiled condescendingly, “but what I wanted to say was how appalled I was by the fact that you actually listened to something Draco Malfoy told you about me, you idiots; that’s me insulting you by the way.” Kurt grabbed each boy by the ear and twisted, “you think I’d say things about you behind your backs? Having heard the kind of things I am willing to say to people’s faces do you honestly believe that I’m too afraid of you two to do the same? If this is what you’re truly choosing to believe then just maybe you must have your heads so far up your own asses that you can taste the shit.”

Kurt released them and got to his feet, both boys rubbed at their bright red ears. Ron broke the silence that had enveloped their small group of friends, “Is this the part where we apologise?”

“Save your apologies for someone else,” Kurt waved them off, “This is the part where you switch on your brain and you think about what you’ve heard and the Kurt you call friend, see if you can consolidate the two.” Kurt began leave but stopped, “Oh and Harry, all the best with today’s quidditch match.”

“Are you off to support Cedric?” Ron called after him as he was leaving the great hall.

“No,” Kurt stopped and turned back with a tight lipped smile, “I have to see Hermione before she leaves to get her braces tightened and I have an appointment with Professor McGonagall.”

_Harry:_

“Is it me or was the ear pulling unnecessary?” Ron whined as Kurt retreated from them.

“We were being pig-headed,” Harry shrugged, he was ashamed that he had doubted Kurt for a moment let alone an entire afternoon, “he has every reason to be angry, let’s just say we got off lightly.”

“Really, I think my ear feels differently but do share,” Ron sat with his chin in his hands waiting for Harry to explain the situation.

“He could have burned our face,” Harry could hear Kurt saying that it was one time in the back of his mind, “We’d deserve it, why would we listen to Malfoy and Snape of all people? Kurt’s our friend.”

“Oh yes,” Ron rolled his eyes, “who’s side do you think he’s on anyway?”

“Kurt’s always on Kurt’s side,” Luna’s wispy yet merry voice sliced through Harry’s thoughts, “Good morning Harry Potter, Ron Weasley.”

“Hi Luna, Ginny,” Harry waved as he stirred his cereal wilfully, “having a good morning?”

“Better than most,” Luna shrugged, Ginny only gleamed at them without speaking.

“It’s easy to tell which side you’re on,” Ron grumbled which caused Harry to catch sight of Luna’s jumper, he had to force back a laugh; the jumper had the head of a lion on the front with the main done in woollen fringe.

“Oh that’s what you meant,” Luna nodded slowly, “Kurt’s on Hufflepuff’s side.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Ron moaned, “That boyfriend of his has gone straight to his head.”

“Or it could be the fact that his brother is on that team,” Harry heard himself defend Kurt, it felt right even if it was from Ron; he’d never considered this ever because Kurt generally took care of himself, “wait, Luna, what did you mean by ‘Kurt is on Kurt’s side’?”

“Well,” Luna shrugged as she peppered her easy over eggs, Harry cringed as he watched her eat them with a thick slice of toast that was generously lathered with blueberry jam, “What I meant is that Kurt doesn’t do ‘Good’ or ‘Evil’, ‘Right’ and ‘Wrong’; he does what has maximum benefit for his agenda and that which he holds dear.”

“Why would you say that?” Harry furrowed his brow; as fond as he’d grown of Luna Lovegood, he was yet to understand her thought processes and eccentric manners of thinking.

“Well, Ron did ask who’s side Kurt was on,” Luna sipped at her overly sweetened tea, giving a small shudder of delight as she tasted the sweetness on her tongue, “I was simply giving you the answer.”

“And the answer was simple,” Ron argued, “Kurt looks out for number one.”

“Why does it feel like we’re back in first year?” Harry groaned, the Kurt and Ron show was one thing but when they didn’t speak to each other it was even worse because they made their arguing everybody’s problem, “Hermione, Neville and I agree that you two need to establish some boundaries, you’re exhausting to be around.”

“I resent that,” Ron huffed around a mouthful of bacon.

“I resent you constantly bickering because it spills over onto the rest of us,” Harry grumbled under his breath.

“I’m neutral,” Luna motioned her indifference, “I just don’t think you should upset him, you two could play clean.”

“I think you’re all blowing this out of proportion,” Ron waved them off, Harry got to his feet and turned to leave without saying anything, “Where are you going?”

“To see if today’s match is cancelled,” the rain had been coming down in buckets since the Saturday past and Harry wasn’t particularly excited about going out to play Quidditch today because it was looking particularly nasty with lightning, gale force winds and near freezing temperatures, if they’d been elsewhere Harry might have called it a tropical storm, “Before I go though, I just have to give my kudos to Luna; you told us the weather was going sideways and we brushed you off.”

“You get used to it when you’re me,” She beamed a smile at him and he felt a pang in his chest.

“Being brushed off?” Harry couldn’t stop the look of sympathy that was creeping onto his face, “that’s awful.”

“No,” Luna laughed, it was soft and lilted like a silver bell, “being right.”

Harry walked up the long table to where a majority of the quidditch team was seated, Harry didn’t let his gaze meet Fred or George’s because he wasn’t in a mood to talk much and so he chose to address the team captain directly, “Oliver, is there going to be a quidditch match in this weather?”

“Of course,” Oliver gave a chuckle, he realised that Harry wasn’t joking, “You don’t cancel quidditch.”

“I’ve heard you say that once before,” George exclaimed.

“And that match was cancelled,” Fred continued.

“Along with the rest of the season,” the boys chorused.

“That won’t be the case today,” Cedric gave them an arrogant smirk, “I’ve spoken to Professor McGonagall and convinced not to cancel the match under any circumstances.”

“That doesn’t sound very smart,” Fred shook his head.

“Or like much fun when you think about it,” George frowned.

“We’ll catch a cold out there,” they chorused before crossing their arms over their chest.

“We’ll have the advantage,” Oliver smirked, “we’ve practised in the rain and we’re stronger, Hufflepuff won’t stand a chance. Did you know that Hufflepuff hasn’t been out on the pitch since before the rain started? Probably because Diggory’s off with the thin one… what’s his name?”

“Kurt?” Harry raised a brow in a similar manner to his friend, he was wondering if he’d do anything if Oliver said something bad about his friend.

“That’s the one,” Oliver nodded.

“I wish we spent more time with Kurt,” George grumbled.

“Instead of out in the rain,” Fred nodded as he laid a soothing hand on his brother’s back.

“You can say that again,” Angelina Johnson nodded, “I just got my hair braided the other day and look at it now, rain is not a friend of black hair.”

“I understand your pain,” Lee Jordan extended his hand toward her in solidarity.

“Don’t even try it,” she gave him a cold look and the team burst out laughing at the expense of the boy, “if I’ve told you once, I’m sure I’ve told you a hundred times that this,” she gestured at the space between them, “isn’t going to happen.”

“You’re words say no,” Lee slid away from her, “but my heart says yes, I’m going respect your decision from overhear, outside your personal space like a gentleman.”

“I’m not sure if that’s not creepier than the touching but I appreciate the sentiment,” she peered at him suspiciously.

“I have to go,” Harry felt his stomach flipping over and knew that he had to find a bathroom or there would another mess for Mr Filch to clean up, not that the man didn’t hate Harry enough as it was, what was more debris on the bonfire of hate that burned between them? As Harry climbed the grand staircase he was almost shoved to the ground by Bomballerina and Crookshanks as they whizzed by him in pursuit of Scabbers, he knew that if Ron had seen this then the bridge between him and Kurt would never mend; Harry made the flash decision to scoop up Scabbers and put him back in their room, for the sake of piece. This made Crookshanks quite cross, he showed his frustration by pawing as the leg of Harry’s pants whilst Bomballerina growled with reprieve.

Harry merely stepped over them and made quick work around the staircases to where the portrait of The Fat Lady had been, the portrait of a knight was in its place; Percy had let slip that this had been the only painting willing to take the job after the vandalism of the last holder of the post, he’d felt that this obvious information was privilege and gone as far as to say ‘you heard it from the head boy’.

“Sir Cadogan at your service lad,” the armoured man in the portraits said, standing at attention, “What’s the password?”

“Fortiter.”

~0~

Harry was being heavily buffeted by the wind as he hovered over the Quidditch pitch, he was struggling to stay in place as the wind tried to throw him off his broom but he managed to stay put despite the extra weight from the beanie, scarf and jumper set Kurt and Hermione had forced on him in an effort to curb his susceptibility to the elements. Harry’s stomach did summersaults as the match was about to begin, he hated making a spectacle of himself and when he played quidditch that was exactly what he did, he had all eyes on him and most were half hoping he’d fall off his broomstick and break his leg or crack his skull either out of spite or healthy competition.

Harry would never have played quidditch if not at Professor McGonagall insistence, he had never played sports before and wasn’t sure he had the dexterity for muggle sports based on the few muggle activities club meetings they’d had but he had agreed to try quidditch because he had assumed he would hate it and be so bad at the first practice that Oliver Wood would ask him not to return; Harry had been shocked not by his skill, he figured that if he could be a wizard and not know it then he could be the perfect athlete and be oblivious of that, Harry had been shocked by how much he enjoyed flying. There was a rush that was unique only to flying, he supposed that it must have been similar to riding a motorcycle but exponentially intensified; it was complete with the exhilarating feeling that accompanied travelling at high speeds, being suspended high in the air and the danger of being maimed in an accident.

Madam Hooch released the snitch and they were off and at it, Harry found himself flying side by side with Cedric Diggory as they zoomed after the golden snitch with limited visibility in spite of the water resistance charm Hermione had put on his spectacles; it was troubling that she knew more charms that worked to improve his glasses than he did when one considered she didn’t wear glasses. The snitch was difficult to see under normal weather conditions but today it was just plain impossible, Harry wasn’t even sure if Cedric was following him to the Snitch or if he was following Cedric because he was sure he could have pulled ahead of the older boy and his _Starsweeper V_ on the _Nimbus 2000_ yet they stayed neck and neck until Cedric broke formation and for a moment it threw Harry for a loop before he realised that they had been chasing nothing but each other, Harry wasn’t wise to Cedric’s tactics as a seeker as their match with Hufflepuff last year was cancelled and he never had the opportunity to play the boy in this position; Ron had told him that seekers were small and agile, sometimes the smallest person on the team, but Cedric was taller than Harry by a head as well as being wider by almost half but he was keeping pace with Harry on a slower broomstick.

Harry was pulled from his thoughts by the faint ring indicating a goal had been scored, he almost didn’t recognise it because it usually boomed around the quidditch pitch but was nothing more than a faint whisper with most of its vigour lost in the wind. Much to Harry’s relief, the point had been for Gryffindor and he let out a haggard breath; it would be awful if Hufflepuff pulled ahead and Cedric caught the snitch whilst he was still trying to stay on his broom. To Harry’s relief Cedric didn’t appear to be seeking the snitch, he was busy captaining the Hufflepuff defence. For the first time all match Harry spotted Finn, the boy seemed to disappear and reappear around the pitch almost instantaneously and Harry was glad that he wasn’t a seeker because he seemed to be more agile than Cedric; you noticed him only when he moved to intercept a pass or whack away bludger, when not at work Finn melted into the background and with the senior he was partnered with they were a spectacle to behold.

Harry suspected that the Hufflepuff team hadn’t spent this past week with Kurt, they were throwing further and truer than ever in spite of the weather; Harry suspected strength training. Along with this they had worked out a great hand to play, based on the way they were able to keep time with their team, pursuing Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson Relentlessly; intercepting pass after pass at this point. Suddenly Malcolm Preece was shooting down the pitch with the quaffle in hand and every member of the Hufflepuff team moved to flank him, they sped toward the hoops in a ‘v’ formation; deflecting any attempt of interception and making it obvious that stopping them fell on the keeper alone, they passed the quaffle back and forth between them as they moved and in an instance there was the wind washed ring of a scored goal and the match was tied at ten all.

Harry suddenly caught sight of the snitch hovering near a smirking Professor Snape just a short distance from him, Harry took off in a dive as the Snitch appeared to be free falling, it levelled it’s flight barely a foot above the ground but Harry was on its tale as it whizzed from side to side along the floor. Harry lost sight of the snitch as a bludger plunged deep into the mud beside him and splashing it on his crimson robes, only missing him due to his erratic flight pattern. Harry looked around but couldn’t see where the snitch had gotten to, as Harry searched his peripheral for the golden snitch he heard the ringing again but was glad to see that it was Angelina Johnson who had scored instead of the Hufflepuff side.

As Harry continued to search for the snitch, scanning the stands as he slowly increased altitude; there was another ringing and ten more points for Gryffindor thanks once more to Angelina Johnson; as his scanning of the stands continued he came to rest on something that made him do a double-take. In the elevated and secluded part of the grandstand where the Gryffindor team sat during the other houses’ matches was a giant black dog, it only appeared at the edge of the shadows for a moment and when Harry tried to get a better look by swooping nearer, it disappeared. Harry looked around the stands to see if anybody else had seen the dog but there didn’t seem to be any kind of acknowledgement of anything out of the ordinary, finally his gaze came to rest on Kurt who was standing under a red umbrella but he wasn’t watching at the match but his line of vision moved as if he was watching something that was moving at great speed in a sharp ascent.

Harry followed the lithe boy’s line of vision hoping he was seeing something strange as well and it came to rest on the Golden Snitch, it was currently in a sharp incline, but more than that his vision caught on Cedric who was watching him watch the snitch; they both took off from opposite sides of the field, headed straight for each other rather than for the snitch. Harry was anxious but didn’t want to turn away first but they were headed for a head on collision, at the last possible moment they both pulled up and began to climb at great speed and determination. Cedric and Harry moved parallel to each other as they climbed to what was starting to look to be a photo finish; Harry noted that the temperature was dropping rapidly as the rain turned to sleet and the droplets froze onto his clothes and face, the weather didn’t devastate him too badly due to the many layers Hermione and Kurt had forced on him.

Harry fell behind for a moment as he viewed the clouds as they had risen above the rain into the clouds, the angry heavy grey clouds seemed to have formed into the Grimm; the giant spectral dog Professor Trelawney had warned him about, was that what he’d seen on the abandoned part of the grandstands? Harry shook his head, reminding himself that Professor Trelawney was a phony, and was back on the snitches tail and shoulder to shoulder with Cedric. Suddenly there was a bright flash of lightning with an almost simultaneous loud crack of thunder, Harry brought his hands up to shield his eyes and when the smoke had cleared he was alone- Cedric and the golden snitch were gone but in their place there was chill that penetrated his many layers of clothing like knife. Much to Harry’s horror this chill was followed by an all too familiar death rattle, from the dark clouds emerged more tall, thin, cloaked figures than Harry found he could count before they closed in on him; Harry did not hear the high pitched scream of the woman from the train this time but rather a nonsensical exchange between a woman and what he could only describe as somebody with a terrible lisp who was in the process of losing their voice.

 _‘Step aside woman,’_ the hoarse lispy whisperer demanded. _‘No, not Harry, please not Harry,_ ’ the woman pleaded, they were talking about him and he was there! Was it the dementors he was hearing? How did they know who he was? _‘take me, kill me instead._ ’ The woman’s voice continued to plead nonsensically; the more Harry heard, the weaker he felt and suddenly he felt his grip loosen on the broomstick and he was falling. ‘ _Please have mercy, have mercy please, leave my baby,’_ the woman begged but the whisperer simply let out a cold gravely laugh in response, the woman screamed like she had on the train and darkness enveloped Harry.

~0~

Harry woke from a dreamless sleep without opening his eyes, maybe he was still asleep just now beginning to dream or maybe he was dead; Aunt Petunia told him when he was younger that there was a special place in the seventh circle of hell for freaks like him and his parents, were they stumbling in the damp darkness with him?

“Is anybody there?” Harry called out, his voice echoed back to him.

“We’re all here,” A soft and comforting voice said, it felt familiar on Harry’s ears but he could not place it.

“Where?” he became distraught, as the voice sounded close but he could discern where about, “are you still there? I can to see you in the dark.”

“I’m closer than you would think,” the voice assured him, he felt warmth on his skin but it wasn’t a touch or a warm breath but it came from the outside in, “All you have to do is will yourself to me.”

“Is this death?” Harry’s voice sounded softer and more afraid than he was comfortable with, “Am I dead?” there was no reply from the voice, the silence was cold and lonely, “Who are you?”

“Who I am doesn’t matter,” the voice was smiling, he didn’t have to be able to see to know, “that I am is enough.”

“Are you the woman?” Harry asked, “the one who was screaming?”

“No.” it was a cold and finite answer.

“Do you know her Harry?” the voice asked him.

~0~

Harry sat up right in bed, the dark room he recognised as the hospital wing in the dim light from his frequent visits and the bed he knew from its hardness but like the last year there was somebody next to his bed but it wasn’t Dobby the house elf, “Kurt?” The boy raised a finger to his lips and Harry lowered his voice, “what are you doing here?”

“I was concerned,” Kurt whispered as he looked Harry up and down, making him feel smile not just from his greater height, “You fell more than a hundred feet, from a height that would have killed you if physics meant anything here; you broke your radius, tibia, fibia, humerus and clavical all on your right side. I think they should have sent you for a head CT because you might have a bleed, maybe a full body CT wouldn’t be too cautious either.”

“What happened?” Harry asked, wanting to rub his head which was throbbing because he’d tried to remember happened but not wanting Kurt to be more concerned than he was, “I lost consciousness at some point.”

Kurt told him everything that had happened during the quidditch match up to the point where he and Cedric disappeared into the clouds, Cedric had been suffered from a mild lightning strike and as result had minimal nerve damage on his right hand but the bad news had been that he had caught the snitch just before that; Gryffindor lost the match. Cedric had apparently offered to replay the match when Harry was better due to the difficulty Harry had experienced with the dementors but Harry knew that the Hufflepuff side had won the match fair and square. Kurt had told him that when he fell all the players still on broomsticks at the time had tried to catch him but he was falling too fast, Professor Dumbledore had luckily been present and cast the arresto momentum charm whilst Kurt and Hermione tried to get good aim from their great distance; the damaged he suffered was minimised by the charm and the many layers he was wearing.

“I’ve got more bad news,” Kurt took a deep breath before continuing to speak, “Your broom is now nothing more than splinter, technically no because I was able to reassemble it but it doesn’t fly anymore.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Harry slumped back on the bed.

“On the plus side,” Kurt smiled broadly, “Turns out Lisa Turpin is into you and was trying to get to you through Ron, she was here for like an hour.”

“How is that good news?” Harry raised a brow, “I can’t fly on Lisa Turpin.”

“You can ride her to new heights,” Kurt smiled suggestively but Harry couldn’t bring himself to laugh, “It was good news to me.”

“Neville said you said, and quote ‘I don’t trust that bottle blonde skank farther than I can throw her and her cheap extensions’,” Harry tilted his head, “why would it be good news that she’s into me?”

“You can take care of yourself,” Kurt pointed out, “she would eat Ron up.”

“He says the same thing about you and Cedric,” Harry mumbled under his breath.

“Cedric is sweetheart,” Kurt countered, “if anyone’s going to be eaten it’s him, on Friday he conjured a room full of tulips for me.”

“Sounds like he’s trying to get lucky,” Harry scoffed.

“Harry Potter,” Kurt was left flabbergasted, “even if he is trying to score then you should know as a sports player that every attempt at scoring doesn’t necessarily result in a goal or try.”

They laughed for a moment before a cold silence washed over them, only the rain coming down outside and the wind’s roars filling the space their laughter had left, the room was filled with an energy that seemed almost nefarious in nature, “I’ve been seeing it, the grim, it was in the grandstand during the quidditch match as well as the clouds.”

“Oh, it’s the power of suggestion,” Kurt shook his head, “that’s what Professor Trelawney does, she plants a seed in your mind and when something that vaguely resembles her prediction happens it serves as a validation of her abilities. I assure you that there is no darkness within me.”

“I saw it that day during the summer outside your house too,” Harry pointed out, “caught a glimpse of it for a moment but it was soon gone.”

“My neighbours don’t keep dogs,” Kurt laid a comforting hand on his left knee, “I’m not as good at being nice as Hermione but without implying that you’re crazy, it’s just in your head.”

Harry was silent, neither accepting nor refusing Kurt’s logic; the silence returned but just as soon as it was here Harry filled it with a slip of the tongue, “I hear my mother dying as well, when the dementors are near, I hear her pleading with Voldemort to leave me alone and then screaming before dying.” Kurt didn’t say anything and Harry Kept speaking, “She’d be alive if she’d let him kill me, they’d both be alive if they’d let him have me.”

“There isn’t a parent in the world who would want that for themselves,” Kurt’s voice was firm, “Both your parents and my mother laid their lives down so that we might go on to live our own lives, not so that what be haunted by the ghost of their sacrifice.”

“It’s the only time I’ve heard her voice and she’s dying,” Harry made a sound he could only identify as midway between a chuckle and a sob, “what kind of life is that?”

Kurt reached out a hand and a small smile, “the kind of life you make it.”


	9. Chapter 9

_Neville:_

Neville had been confused for a moment as to whether their little clique was coming apart at the seams, no one had directly declared against another but there had been a definite tension and a time when they were divided; though the division had passed the tension was very much in their midst. He had assumed that it had something to do with Malfoy’s less than flattering paraphrase of something he alleged Kurt had said; Neville, having first-hand experience of how wicked Malfoy could be, knew better than to believe it but he knew it wasn’t his place to say something because Kurt must have had a reason for his silence. As Neville had suspected after the incidences surrounding the weekend of the Hufflepuff-Gryffindor quidditch match, things were back to normal; almost as if nothing had happened, Kurt and Ron were back to arguing about everything and anything.

Everything appeared to have levelled out until breakfast, when Harry had showed them The Marauder’s Map that he had received from Fred and George, and shared with their clique his intentions of using the map and his invisibility cloak to sneak out of the castle to Hogsmead on the last out-weekend before Christmas;

“That might be the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” Kurt gaped at Harry, “tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not,” Harry swallowed a lump in his throat and Neville felt himself doing the same, “I’m tired of missing out, this is my plan to change that.”

“I think that’s a big risk you’re taking,” Hermione added, she held Harry’s hand and gave him a good long stare, “But I can’t fault you out right.”

“I’m not asking for permission or criticism,” Harry’s words were bold, “I’ve made up my mind, I’m doing this.”

“What do you mean you mean you're ‘doing this’?” Kurt gaped, “Do you realise how dangerous this could be?”

Ron gave Kurt a condescending pat on the shoulder, “you worry too much.”

“I feel like maybe you don’t think about the risks hard enough,” Kurt’s eyes looked about to pop out of his skull from how tightly he had his teeth gritted, Neville couldn’t help but let out a small whimper at his intimidating state, “these unsanctioned tunnels out of the school probably aren’t structurally sound and might collapse on him or worse he gets hurt outside and nobody knows he’s out there, he could end up lying dead in a ditch with snow piling up over you for months before being found.”

“That’s a little melodramatic,” Ron quirked a brow as he scoffed down his bacon sandwich, “don’t you think?”

Kurt simply gawked at Ron, then at Hermione, then his gaze landed on Neville and he didn’t know what to do other than squirm, and finally it fell on Harry, “As a matter of fact I think I might be the only one thinking.”

“That’s not fair,” Hermione looked up from her reading with a wag of her finger, “Harry won’t listen, talking to him about it is pointless because he has his mind made up.”

“Besides,” Ron shrugged, “Harry’s made of the right stuff, look at him, you wouldn’t tell he broke more bones at once than most people break in their whole lives.”

“Speaking of,” Kurt turned to address, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about quidditch.”

Harry was shocked, “you want to talk to me about quidditch, what about it?”

“It’s a barbaric sport,” Kurt announced, crossing his long slender arms elegantly over his chest and pursing his lips for a moment, “I’m not trying to be a bitch but quidditch has to go.”

“Quidditch is a time honoured tradition here at Hogwarts,” Ron argued back waving his arms around with his eyes on the verge of falling out of his skull, “It’s also the greatest sport ever invented, we can’t simply ‘do away with it’.”

“Hockey is the greatest sport,” Finn, Hermione and Kurt chorused, each raising an interjectory finger in perfect sync, what made it more frightening was that Finn wasn’t even part of the conversation of within ear shot.

“Which one’s hockey?” Ron scratched the crown of his head as he thought.

“It’s the one where Kurt elbowed Cedric in the face even though they were on the same team,” Neville answered with a small chuckle; he recalled Kurt’s uncharacteristic aggression and the unprovoked violence he was willing to dish out to both team member and opponents alike in the name of Hockey, “it was frightening.”

“Cedric was marking me, and from the wrong side to make matters worse,” Kurt huffed with a slight twitch of his brow, “He’s lucky I like his face and let him off that lightly.”

“And you think Quidditch is barbaric?” Ron had a smirk of self-proclaimed victory on his face.

“That’s not the same thing,” Kurt argued, he stopped and placed a finger on his temple, “Hermione please explain it to him because I’m tired of repeating myself, maybe he’ll listen if it’s coming from you.”

“There’s not a chance in hell of me letting you drag me into this mess,” Hermione snorted with shake of her head, “you two finish your stupidity yourselves, I’m not nearly sufficiently prepared for the upcoming potions test on friday.”

“I want you to know you’re the worst,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “The difference is that Cedric was breaking the rules which put him in danger, Harry follows every rule in quidditch yet it still tries to kill him at least once a year.”

“It doesn’t try to kill him,” Ron pouted for a moment, “people try to kill him; first year it Quirreldemort, last year it was Dobby and this year it was Black.”

“Black?” Neville raised a brow, Neville remember the matter slightly differently and couldn’t equate Harry’s attack and him falling off his broom to the actions of one man but again chose to say nothing.

“I don’t think you can blame Sirius Black for the dementor attack at last week’s quidditch,” Harry scoffed.

“Not directly,” Ron admitted but with a smile on his face, “unless there’s some Slytherin dark magic for controlling dementors.”

“And when would we learn this?” Kurt raised a brow, “We’re in all the same lessons as you.”

“I don’t know,” Ron shrugged, “bed time stories.”

“As fun as that theory is, Sirius Black was in Gryffindor,” Hermione said without looking up from her book.

“Gryffindor?” Neville felt his mouth gaping, “I thought Kurt said he was in Slytherin.”

“I’d deduced as much based on the words of the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black until Peeves said that my ‘father’,” Kurt put air quotes around the word father, “would be disappointed I was just like the rest of his family which made me suspect that something about me was what had distinguished Sirius Black from the rest of the Black Family, I broke into the hall of records again and I found out he was in Gryffindor. That’s not the point of this conversation, I wasn’t going down this road.”

“Oh yes,” Ron sneered, “you were going down the ‘quidditch is evil’ road.”

“Dangerous,” Kurt corrected with a crick of his neck and a twitch of his left eye, “I just think to ignore this warning would be as reckless as thinking you can sneak away to Hogsmead with that map and your cloak.”

“I said this before,” Harry took a deep breath, “but I wasn’t asking.”

“I strongly advise you thinking this over carefully before you act because there are a multitude of potential outcomes that you haven’t considered and most of them are disastrous,” Kurt gave them a stony glare before getting up to leave.

“What’s wrong with him?” Ron chortled.

“He’s worried about you guys behaving like idiots, being murdered by the at large mass murderer and having it made to look like a quidditch accident or you never being heard from or seen again,” Neville heard himself saying, “And you guys are busy treating him like he’s the bad guy.”

“We’re not treating him like the bad guy,” Harry countered with a weak laugh, doubt weaved deeply into his tone.

“We’re all guilty of neglecting and mistreating Kurt but it goes unnoticed because he’s strong and he brushes it off or fights his own battles,” Neville continued, his voice sounded more sure on his ears, “but when it comes to his friends you can see that it hurts him but he never complains and it’s time somebody came to his defence.”

Neville didn’t wait for a reply or defence, he was on his feet and following Kurt before he was aware of what he was doing; it was odd the way his instincts worked at great speed at sometimes and at others they didn’t come to the party till after the music had died, he guessed this was what Kurt meant by anger and adrenaline. Kurt though seemingly erratic in his behaviour, was fond of patterns and familiarity which meant that Neville knew exactly where to look first. Making great speed to the third floor girls bathroom he was almost thrown off by the dead silence that greeted him as he entered Moaning Mertyl’s bathroom, but the silence had also been a tell that Kurt was present as Mertyl was never this quiet.

“Kurt?” Neville called out cautiously in a delicate voice, not wanting Kurt’s sorrows to turn to anger, “Kurt, are you here?”

“Just a moment,” Neville stalked cautiously around the circular arrangement of basins to where Kurt stood blotting his eyes, “You really shouldn’t be here, now you have to see me like this.” Neville was astonished by what he saw, Kurt had red rings around his eyes and there were visible tear marks on his contorted face, “I’m just being silly and look what I’ve done.”

“You’re not being silly,” Neville laid a comforting hand on the taller boy’s shoulder, Kurt shrugged him off, “hey, you can cry and it doesn’t make any less of you, those guys were real jerks to you while Hermione and I just watched; I wouldn’t be surprised if you were angry at us too.”

“It’s not that,” Kurt sobbed for a moment before switching to what vaguely resembled a cackle of madness, “I… I’m crying because I realised Czechoslovakia is closed.”

Neville was taken aback by what he was hearing for a moment, “I don’t think countries close.”

“They don’t, it split into Slovakia and Czech Republic,” Kurt gave a more stable and sane sounding laugh, “I thought for some reason that this meant I’d never get to go to Prague but I can because it’s still a place but like I said, I was being silly.”

“I won’t even begin to try and understand your reasoning,” Neville smiled.

Kurt chuckled, “it’s kind of like getting the Dolce without the Gabbana, is it still the same?”

“I have no idea what that is,” Neville slung his arm over Kurt’s shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug, his grandmother didn’t approve of hugging due to the gross invasion of personal space but he decided to ignore her wisdom for a moment and offer Kurt a reminder that people were still there for him, “Germany opened the other year, go there instead.”

Kurt took a deep breath and nodded on Neville’s shoulder, “I do already speak German and I do struggle with Slavic languages, I just can’t get the accent right.”

Neville held Kurt by the shoulders at arm’s length, “Now that we’ve dealt with that, why don’t you put on your face and we can go to class. Don’t give those buffoons we call friends a moment’s thought.”

“You go ahead,” Kurt smiled, “this face takes forever to put on right, plus I want to go by the owlery on my way.”

____________________________

_Harry:_

“Mr Harry Potter,” Professor Snape appeared with a displeased sneer, “I’ve been bestowed with the great joy of playing messenger; I deliver summons to Professor McGonagall’s office, immediately,”

“Yes, Professor Snape,” as Harry spoke His gaze swept about the great hall, searching for Kurt who was nowhere to be found. As he made quick work of navigating his way to Professor McGonagall’s office he couldn’t help his thoughts from wandering at a mile a minute, had Kurt betrayed him and told McGonagall that he was planning on sneaking out of the castle using the Marauder's Map? Could Harry find it in himself to forgive this great betrayal if that was the case? Kurt hadn’t been the same since their argument over the map a few weeks ago, the boy had been cold and distant, was this what it had been culminating to? Had Kurt been slowly severing ties in preparation for this betrayal?

Harry knocked on the door, all his questions would likely be answered on the other side, “Come in.” Professor McGonagall’s office was large and covered in art, he recalled Kurt telling him that she had a Monnet in there; he had nodded, not knowing what a Monnet was. Professor McGonagall’s wrinkled face was visibly riddled with concern, “Please, takes a seat Potter.”

The door shut behind Harry and he swore under his breath, “How can I help you Professor?”

The elderly woman seemed to look him over for a moment as he twitched guiltily in his seat, “I received an owl from your aunt.”

“My aunt?” Harry’s eyes grew wide, his surprise evident; that was twist he hadn’t been expecting.

“Yes,” Professor McGonagall held up an envelope that was unmistakably Aunt Petunia’s stationary, “it seems that she has signed and mailed your Hogsmead permission slip.”

“She did what?” Harry was confused, the permission slip had been unsigned in his trunk and he didn’t understand how it ended up signed on McGonagall’s desk, “Professor-”

“You can imagine my surprise when it arrived, considering that you had previously asked me to sign it for you,” Professor McGonagall’s voice was slowly rising, “but I assure you I had it checked many times for forgery but it appears to be legitimate, I therefore cannot deny you the privilege of a Hogsmead visit.”

“Why does this sound like it disappoints you?” Harry was taken aback her tone.

“I have to admit that I liked the idea of you being safely tucked away in the castle instead of out there where Sirius Black can easily get to you,” Professor McGonagall admitted with guilt replacing anger.

“I’ll be with Hermione, Neville and Ron,” Harry felt guilty for excluding Kurt but he knew Kurt would likely be with Cedric, “I’ll be fine.”

“Do not underestimate the threat of Sirius Black,” Professor McGonagall scolded, Harry quivered where he sat as he voice reverberated through him without having been raised.

“I don’t even understand why he’d be after me anyway,” Harry shrugged.

“You wouldn’t,” Professor McGonagall sighed, this echoed through his body just as violently, “You may go on this afternoon’s Hogsmead visit but I don’t think you should go, that is up to you to decide but I urge you to be careful.”

Harry got up to leave with some of his questions left unanswered and even more questions buzzing through his head; he pulled out the plain parchment from his robe pocket and tapped it with his wand, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

The Hogwarts floor plan exploded onto the parchment in black archaic print, Harry quickly scanned the map for the pair of feet marked ‘Kurt Hummel’, he found them quickly in a classroom that wasn’t too far from where his own foot prints were but then he spotted a second pair in the great hall; when Harry had left the great hall Kurt hadn’t been there so he simply dismissed that pair as a mistake. He made the quick trek to where the map said Kurt was, it was an unused classroom with a large mirror instead of a chalk board and a large piano in one corner.

“ _Obrigescunt in infinitum_ ,” Harry saw Kurt standing in the centre of the room chanting calmly whilst doing complicated wand movements, there was a pale blue flash and a small bird that was hovering in front of Kurt was frozen in mid wing stroke and fell to the ground. Kurt smiled and leaned forward, “ _reversi sunt ut northmanni_.” The bird started flapping its wings again and began to hover, Kurt’s smile grew as he turned to record something in a notebook and with a flick of his wand over his shoulder the bird disappeared.

“What are you doing?” Harry couldn’t help asking.

“I’m preparing,” Kurt smiled at him, “how can I help you?”

Harry eyed Kurt suspiciously, “What are you preparing for?”

“You really shouldn’t answer a question with a question,” Kurt laughed, shutting his notebook as Harry stepped closer, “in some cultures that’s considered rude.”

“Oh, I’ll be sure to be more careful in future,” Harry grinned, “I came to tell you that my aunt signed my Hogsmead permission slip, I guess that means I won’t be sneaking out.”

“That’s lovely,” Kurt gave him a cold smile.

“Funny thing is that I had my permission in my chest here at Hogwarts,” Harry smiled broadly, he wanted Kurt to know he knew what he did.

“As much as I’d love to take credit for this, I can’t, this isn’t my doing,” Kurt shrugged and packed his notebook away, “You told me to mind my own business and that’s what I’ve been doing.”

“Is that what you think I meant?” Harry felt something drop, “that’s not what I meant, comeback. I didn’t want you to go away, we miss you.”

Kurt gave a tight lipped smile, “That’s not it, I-” Kurt took a deep breath, “I’m tired, I don’t want to have to force a certain kind of behaviour because it’s less ‘evil’; I’m tired of having to try and the constant judgement but mostly I’m tired of being made into the bad guy.”

Harry felt a tightness in his chest, “Does this mean we can’t be friends anymore?”

“It means we can’t still be a clique like we were,” Kurt sighed and laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder, an attempt at comforting him that wasn’t working, “at least I can’t.”

Harry wasn’t sure if that was the brush off after a break up or hope, “Can I ask you what you’re preparing for?”

“You can but may you?”

“What are you preparing for?” Harry asked, he didn’t get the point of that answer and took it as an invitation.

“It’s for Professor Lupin, an extra credit project of sorts for Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Kurt frowned, “it’s a preliminary effort considering the fact that we’ve had next to no assignments and we haven’t had a test yet this year, I’d hate for my final result to be dampened by an exam related mishap.”

“I don’t even know what an exam related mishap might be,” Harry chuckled.

“Don’t laugh,” Kurt was short with him and his laughter died in his throat, “I have zero prior experience with Professor Lupin’s style of examining, who knows what the exam could turn out like and that could lead to me not doing as well as I’d like to.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Harry shrugged, earning himself a look ire from Kurt, “Are you heading into the village with Cedric today?”

“No,” Kurt shook his head, “I have an errand to run then I have to start getting ready for all the tests I have the first week back.”

“Oh, I was hoping you’d come with the rest of us to Honeydukes and the three broomsticks,” Harry admitted with a defeated sigh, “You could have bought Cedric if you liked.”

“I really appreciate the invitation but I already have plans,” Kurt rubbed his arm for a minute, “Rain check?”

“Rain check.”

~0~

As exciting as Honeydukes was, Harry had to admit that it was rather underwhelming after Ron’s hyperbole of a description ; it was still just a sweet shop, Harry supposed that if he love food as much as Ron his enjoyment of the experience might have increased tenfold. Harry, Ron and Hermione had moved right on from there with haste, much to Ron’s displeasure, on to the Three Broomsticks in; they found a booth in the back of the pub, on their way Hermione pointed out the table where Cedric and Kurt had their first date. It was odd to talk about Kurt in the past tense but it wouldn’t have made sense to do it any other way in the context, but it made Harry feel like they’d truly lost him.

“We haven’t lost him,” He mumbled under his breath.

Hermione furrowed her brow, “What was that Harry?”

“Nothing,” Harry looked about the pub but couldn’t see much from his seat other than the main entrance, but that had been all he’d needed because as he was sinking into his seat Cornelius Fudge walked in, “Isn’t that the Minister for Magic?”

“He had a meeting with Professor Dumbledore about banishing the dementors from the school grounds,” Hermione nodded and took a sip of her butter beer, Harry gaped at how much she knew, “Kurt and Professor Dumbledore discussed the meeting earlier in the week, Kurt’s been pushing for it since the incident on the train but it was the quidditch match that tipped the scales for Professor Dumbledore.”

Harry followed the man in the lime green bowler hat till he had to crane his neck to watch him slide into the booth behind him, “Minister,” the voice that spoke was unmistakable, it was Hagrid.

“Hagrid old friend,” the man sounded more cheery than Harry had heard him before, “it’s good to see you on more amicable terms again.”

“What does amicable mean?” Ron said rather loudly, earning him a smack on the back of the head from Hermione, “What?”

“I want to hear how the meeting went,” Hermione hissed a scold.

“There’s Madam Rosmerta,” Ron blushed as he waved at a provocatively dressed woman who was nearing middle aged, in her hands she held two large pitchers of mead, “She’s coming here.”

“Minister,” the woman spoke in a low sultry voice but with a thick highlands accent.

“Rosie,” the man chuckled, “how’s business?”

“It’d be better if you weren’t sending dementors into my pub every night and scaring off my customers,” she half scolded and half laughed, punctuating the sentence with a loud yelp.

Harry saw Hermione scowl opposite from him, he shrugged, “I can’t believe she just let the minister touch her rump and she’s continuing to flirt. She’s denigrating herself and all woman in the service industry by behaving inappropriately."

“You don’t think she’d let me t-” Hermione shot Ron that silenced Ron before he could finish that though, “never mind.”

“What would Sirius Black want in Hogsmead?” she chortled.

The minister for magic was silent for a moment, “Harry Potter.”

“Harry Potter?” the question in Madam Rosmerta’s voice was evident.

“He’d be wanting to finish the job,” Hagrid’s voice was shaky.

“I’m confused,” the female voice said, “What job?”

“Now she’s dumbing herself down,” Hermione hissed rolling her eyes as she strained to hear from father than Harry who, to his great pleasure, was in the prime spot for eavesdropping.

“Well,” it was Minister Fudge who was speaking now, “before going on to kill those twelve muggles, Sirius Black had told He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named where the Potters had gone into hiding, they trusted him as their secret keeper and he sold them into death. Only a monster would do such a thing to a child.”

“My poor Harry,” Hagrid bellowed angrily, as if to make sure that Harry knew that he had heard correctly and Sirius Black was truly after him, “If Sirius comes near him I’ll kill him myself, I won’t leave him to the dementors.” There was the sound of pained swallowing, “you know, since it’s my fault he’s around and all, I was the last person to see him between his crimes but I didn’t know what he’d done otherwise I wouldn’t have let him go.”

“None of us knew,” Minister spoke more loudly as well now, “Nobody was the wiser.”

“You saw him before he killed those twelve muggles?” Madam Rosmerta sounded curious.

There was a short silence before Hagrid spoke, “He came to the house when I went to get Harry, I thought he was their friend and there out of concern, he even lent me his flying motorcycle and all.”

“He’d come see if his master had truly fallen and on his way to avenge You-Know-Who when he was confronted by Peter Pettigrew,” The minister added.

“Peter Pettigrew?” Madam Rosmerta asked, “Who is that? Remind me.”

“The little lump of a boy that was friends with James,” Hagrid said with aloud belch, “you’d never see James without him.”

“Can’t say I remember,” Madam Rosmerta spoke dismissively.

“Sirius Black was the Potter’s Secret Keeper and betrayed them to You-Know-Who,” the Minister of Magic, “The muggles who witnessed it say that Black destroyed Pettigrew for confronting him about the betrayal, left nothing but a finger when he blew up that side walk, Killed twelve muggles in the process.” The minister was quiet for a moment, “when we found Black he had spiralled into madness and was jabbering nonsensically.”

Harry had definitely heard enough now, he had heard enough a while back but it had taken him a moment to get his legs to obey him; quietly he got to his feet and made his way toward the door with more decorum than he’d mustered his whole life, keeping face. As soon as he was outside and out of the line of vision of the people whose conversation he’d been eavesdropping on; Harry broke into a sprint without caring much for where he was going, with only the intention of getting away from his thoughts and leaving his mind. He ignored Hermione calling after him, he just kept pushing the world from under him and leaving The Three Broomsticks Inn as far behind him as he could.

Harry felt himself losing breath and with is speed, he doubled over and the contents of his stomach emptied on to the freshly fallen snow and the sight of it caused Harry to retch again. Before Harry could straighten up Hermione’s hands were there on his shoulders; she didn’t speak, just rubbing gentle circles in his back.

Harry was glad to have her there despite his efforts to escape reality, they moved away from the mess and he squatted on a rock, “Where’s Ron?”

“He’ll be here soon enough,” Hermione’s tone was dismissive, as if she dare not speak of anything but the matter at hand.

Harry gave a small smile, “How did you catch up so quickly?”

“My legs are longer than yours,” she gave a small forced laugh, “and I’m in better shape than Ron.”

“Did you know?” Harry’s voice was smaller than he’d expect, “I know you and Kurt know everything years before anyone else, did you know Sirius Black was my parents friend and that he betrayed them.”

“We didn’t know the particulars,” Hermione admitted, Harry could see that she was riddled with guilt for keeping the little she knew from him, “all we had was a couple of matching detention slips and a circumstantial weakly strung together theory.”

“I know you don’t want to hear this,” Harry took a deep breath; “but I hope Sirius Black finds me.”

“You can’t mean that,” Hermione gasped.

“I do,” Harry nodded, “I hope he finds me so I can avenge my parents.”

___________________________________

_Hermione:_

 “What you doing?” Hermione had been pacing in the entrance hall for the good part of ten minutes and was glad for the whistle tone that pulled her from herself, “How long have you been pacing here?”

Hermione flung her arms around Kurt’s shoulders, “probably since Christmas, how was Karlovy Vary?”

“We shredded the powder,” Finn said with jovial jig before hugging Hermione tightly.

“Cocaine?” Hermione’s raised a curious brow, nothing truly surprised her when it came to the Hudson-Hummel family.

“Snowboarding,” Finn gave a growl of a chuckle “should have been there.”

“I’m wishing I was,” Hermione shrugged with a nervous giggle, she fiddled with her hair, “really just anywhere but here.”

“ _Nobody’s Home_ was the best theme ever for Christmas,” Kurt beamed as Finn carried his suitcase down to the Slytherin Dungeon, “Even my Grandma Libby liked it and she hates everything. I take it staying here with Ron and Harry wasn’t your best idea; it didn’t go well, did it?”

“They aren’t talking to me anymore if that answers your question,” Hermione crossed her arms indignantly, “they don’t realise how we act in their best interest not because we think we know better but because we know more.”

“Welcome to my world friend,” Kurt stopped in front of the wall that lead into the Slytherin dungeon where Finn had been waiting for them, “ _Vermogen_.” Kurt tilted his head inward as the bricks opened, “Put it next to my bed, thanks honey. You coming?”

Hermione wanted to look around for somebody else Kurt might be speaking to but knew that it was her he meant, “you want me to go in there?”

“Strictly speaking, it’s not against the rules,” Kurt waved it off, and dragged her in beside him, “it’s not explicitly said to be against the rules just frowned upon.”

“So we can do it,” Hermione groaned as she stepped around the very quilted leather couch she’d sat in more than a year ago, disguised as Pansy Perkinson.

“Now tell me,” Kurt stroked her hand as he led her along, “What did the mean boys do to you?”

“So many things,” Hermione groaned, Kurt opened the door to his room and Hermione stopped her moaning to gasp in amazement, “your rooms are so much nicer than ours, I thought the fact that it was a dungeon meant it would be dark and dingy but this is fancy.” Kurt directed her to a mahogany four poster with so many layers of sheer emerald organza draping it appeared opaque, the bed was definitely bigger, “And there are fewer of you in here, I wish I was a Slytherin boy.”

“The other room has three human beings,” Kurt joked as he shrugged out his coat, “unlike the cunts I share with.”

“My mother might say ‘God never gives you more than you can handle’ but I know that life specialises in pushing my limits,” Hermione grunted.

“You were telling me about your horrible vacation,” Kurt hooked arms with her and led her out of the luxurious room, “I feel like we should get it out of the way before I start gloating about my vacation.”

“It started on the first day Christmas break,” Hermione groaned, “when Anthony dumped me.”

“He did what?” Kurt seemed to lose balance when she told him this, almost falling flat on his face, “why?”

“Apparently, he feels like we can’t have a healthy and functioning relationship whilst you and I are as involved in each other’s lives as we are,” she exclaimed, recalling all the anger that coursed through her veins when the original conversation had taken place.

“And what did you have to say to that?”

“Well,” Hermione could feel a blush spreading, she fiddled with her Alice band for a moment, “I put on my resting bitch face and told him we were fourteen, not married and he needed to raise his chill.”

“Ice cold,” Kurt shimmied in delight for a moment before they exchanged a victorious high-five, “What else?”

Hermione couldn’t supress a giggle, “I told him that I didn’t even give the best of me to him, he was all like let’s be friends.” Hermione had progressed to a full chuckle at this point, “I told him to save the bullshit because I don’t want to be his fucking friend.”

Kurt gave her a pat on the back, “I’m not even sure who was breaking up with whom, you're good.”

“I wish I was able to blur the lines in my mind but I got dumped by an asthmatic who can barely string together a sentence,” Hermione was surprised by the guffaw that exploded from her, “but I’m okay with it.”

“What else did you do?” Kurt smiled, “other than renew your membership to the spinster’s club?”

“On Christmas eve we went to see Hagrid and he told us that Buckbeak got a trial in front of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures,” she continued.

“Buckbeak?” Kurt looked to be shocked, “the hippogriff?”

“What?” Hermione wasn’t sure if Kurt’s lack of compassion for Buckbeak should shock or appal her, “Not big on animal rights?”

“I love animals; some make great friends, others are delicious and the rest are fabulous to wear,” Kurt smiled in a way that left unsure as to whether he was joking, “I just didn’t think the medieval wizarding world had a PETA equivalent.”

“Behind on something, ahead on others,” Hermione shrugged, “well, anyway, we all agreed to help Hagrid with the trial.”

“Oh you poor naïve little girl,” Kurt giggled and she felt small.

“They came to the library once,” Hermione admitted, “not once more.”

“I think their apathetic attitude towards reading is truly concerning,” Kurt mused.

“I’m beyond caring,” Hermione announced, wringing her hands of the pair but she was suddenly wrapped in guilt.

“No, you’re not,” Kurt quirked a quizzical brow.

“No,” Hermione sighed, “I’m really not.”

“Me neither,” Kurt smiled at her, “if anything I’m more worried now than ever.”

As if from nowhere Fred and George appeared, both boys hugging Kurt at once, “We missed you.”

“Never leave us again,” Fred proclaimed.

“We’re beginning suspect some things,” George accused.

“Like you don’t love us like you used to,” they chorused.

Kurt turned his head from where they had him suspended an inch off the ground, “What about me invites people to touch me?”

“It’s your soft citrus scented skin,” George announced.

“No, it’s the berry smell of his hair,” Fred argued.

The pair seemed to drop Kurt to argue with each other, “It’s the skin, everybody loves oranges.”

“Not as much as they love the summery scent of berries,” Fred quipped, flicking his brother’s ear in the process.

Hermione rolled her eyes while she helped Kurt straighten the creases from his blouse before they had to go back to change, “it could be the cold way he ignores any physical contact.”

“You’re not helping,” Kurt scolded her but all Hermione could do was laugh in reply.

“I’m just giving them more choices,” Hermione shrugged, giving Kurt a good-natured shove, “it’s not like they’re listening to us, they’re too busy arguing to care what we have to say.”

“Not that I’m complaining,” Kurt spoke whilst straightening his hair, “but why can’t I hold their attention for more than a few seconds.”

“Come on boys,” Hermione chuckled, “Kurt needs to be worshipped.”

“Not while he’s wearing that scary eye,” Fred held his hands up in surrender.

George mirrored the movement, “I heard it was made from the skull off a child Kurt Killed.”

“With his bare hands,” they yelped in unison.

“It’s not human bone,” Kurt mused, shaking his head in astonishment, “at least I don’t think it is.”

“Beside, Look at Kurt’s little girl hands,” Hermione chuckled, “I don’t think they’re a lethal weapon.”

“We’re not taking our chances,” they chorused before high-tailing it down the corridor.

“They are so strange,” Kurt shook his head in clear disbelief.

“We’re strange,” Hermione quipped.

“Yes,” Kurt gave a lilted laugh, “but we’re pretty.”

Hermione had to stop herself from doubling over, “No arguing with that logic.”

“Tell me more about this horrible Christmas you had,” Kurt goaded her on.

“At Christmas dinner Professor Trelawney announced that the first to rise when thirteen dine together would be the first to perish,” Hermione said this with sly smile, “there were fourteen people present.”

“Seems legit,” Kurt gave a curt nod.

“Harry got a Firebolt for Christmas,” Kurt met her with a blank stare.

“Is that a deadly disease?”

“It’s a very expensive racing broomstick,” Hermione corrected.

“Who was it from?” Kurt furrowed his brow, “Very expensive but it wasn’t from me because I wouldn’t spend a lot of money on someone else, I got my dad a macaroni necklace this year.”

“It didn’t have a card,” Hermione explained, “I suggested turning it over to Professor McGonagall for hex testing.”

Kurt nodded, “makes sense, the last broom Harry was gifted with tried to kill him the first time he tried to ride it.”

“That’s what I said,” Hermione never seized to be surprised by how simpatico she and Kurt were, “but they weren’t having it, so I told McGonagall anyway.”

“Good girl,” Kurt gave her a big smile, “it’s the responsible thing to do.”

“Ron and Harry don’t seem to think so,” Hermione felt her shoulder slump over in exhaustion.

“Let bygones be,” Kurt waved a dismissive hand, “if we listened to everything they said we’d have been expelled or dead ages ago.”


	10. Chapter 10

Kurt gave a satisfied nod as he eyed his and Hermione’s handy work, “If I do say so myself, I think this might be our best work yet. There’s not a chance of Buckbeak being executed with an airtight defence like this and the list of alternate solutions we drew up.”

“I think we shouldn’t count our chickens before they hatch,” Hermione cracked her neck and yawned, “but I do admit that we’ve done as much as we possibly can at this point, and the rest is up to the committee.”

“I personally believe that between the two of us we could manage it,” Kurt smiled broadly, he had good reason to be glowing, “I think with our intellectual prowess, we could come up with some method of predicting how many of our eggs are going to hatch or alternately we could encourage hatching by controlling the incubation.”

“Must you always be so difficult?” Hermione rolled her eyes and Kurt knew she didn’t approve of his dramatics, “Did you have to take that analogy so far?”

“Come on,” Kurt gave her the same expectant look he found he always gave her when expecting her to agree with him, “How could they possibly fault our compassion plea; Draco was simply a result of the circumstances of nature, There are witnesses that will testify to him provoking the hippogriff after being warned not to do so and the beast reacted in defence due to its natural instincts; it’s the temporary insanity plea of animals.”

“They couldn’t argue against that because to expect any different would be to expect something outside the bounds of nature, a hippogriff doesn’t possess the sentience necessary to differentiate between an actual threat or an idiot,” Hermione reluctantly agreed, “and the law clearly only calls for the execution of that which knowingly harms or kills a human.”

“If all else fails we could argue that Draco isn’t human,” Kurt shrugged.

“I don’t think ‘sleaze ball’ is a species recognised by the Ministry for Magic,” Hermione chuckled a little too loudly for Madam Pince’s tastes as they earned a reproachful look from the librarian, “We should get to work on an appeal, just in case.”

“If I never read another law book in my life it will be too soon,” Kurt stretched, they’d been in the library breakfast and the sun was now overhead, “I now know two new things about my future; I’m not going to be a lawyer and I’m sending Mrs Weasley my measurements next year because this jumper is tight, Guess what? I didn’t need Divination to figure either out.”

“I think you’ve just grown since she last saw you,” Hermione teased, tugging the jersey down over his ribs, “maybe you were half a foot shorter in August.”

“Or maybe she got us mixed up because your jumper goes down to your knees,” Kurt gave her a glare of death, “but this green makes my eyes pop so there isn’t a chance in hell of us swapping, you know how that shade of blue washes me out.”

“Yes, blue is evil in every shade except navy and cerulean but none more evil than white,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “that’s why you got the grey Zhivago.”

“The white one made me look too pale and my eyebrows too dark,” Kurt shuddered.

“You’re silly,” Hermione scoffed before a sombre look replaced her lacklustre smile, “you’re terrible at it.”

“You can’t blame me for that,” Kurt protested, crossing his arms defensively, “they’re just really good at it.”

“Missing Ron and Harry?” Ginny smiled at them as she slid into the seat opposite them.

“No,” Kurt turned up his nose defiantly.

“We most certainly are not,” Hermione mirrored Kurt’s posture.

“Well,” Ginny gave a small giggle, “they are certainly missing you.”

“Really?” Kurt could feel his façade crumbling around him as he leaned forward, curiosity taking precedence over his better judgement, “what did you hear?”

“Oh, nothing special,” Ginny was teasing him and the worst part was that it was working quite well, “Harry got his Firebolt back from McGonagall at lunch yesterday and they were on their way to make amends with Hermione but then Scabbers was missing and now Ron has beef with you two because he assumed that out of all the students with cats, it was Crookshanks and Bumblebeeballerina that ate his rat.”

“Bomballerina,” Kurt corrected.

“Why am I not surprised?” Hermione rolled her eyes, “that’s just the kind of luck we’re having this year.”

“My luck is worse,” Ginny protested, “You remember how Harry went out with Lisa Turpin earlier in the year?”

“It was like five weeks ago and she made sure to rub it in everybody’s face for a good two weeks after the matter,” Kurt scoffed, “I knew she was bad news.”

“Yet you encouraged him to go out with her,” Hermione pointed out.

“For completely different reasons,” Kurt rolled his eyes, he hated how Hermione always reminded him of the missteps he wished to forget, “why do you mention it?”

“Well, you heard that they broke up because he snogged her friend Mandy,” Ginny’s tone remained expository but with an edge of annoyance. “right?”

“I didn’t hear this,” Kurt shook his head.

Hermione shot him a lopsided grin, “what happened to knowing everything?”

“You hadn’t heard either,” Kurt countered.

“I’ve been avoiding the Ravenclaw grapevine,” Hermione bowed her head slightly, “I got dumped, remember? And I really liked Anthony but the last thing I want to hear is that he’s with Mandy Bracklehurst.”

“You won’t hear that because she’s been with Harry whilst he was with Lisa,” Ginny’s voice was calm but she was vibrating; Kurt could see why people thought he was bad with bad news, it wasn’t a good look on anyone.

“Harry?” Hermione raised a brow and giggled shrilly, “Harry Potter? Our Harry?” Ginny nodded and Hermione progressed from a somewhat controlled giggle to a full bellow of laughter, “Well, I guess he’s technically not our Harry anymore but he barely speaks and he managed to date two of the smartest people in our year without either finding out? They’re best friends!”

“I don’t understand it either,” Ginny’s anger was being overtaken by sadness, “Why them? I’ve been here and he doesn’t even look at me, he looks at Luna more than he looks at me!”

“Luna actually speaks to him,” Hermione pointed out, “Harry might be the boy who lived but he’s no mind reader.”

“Luna is also blonde,” Kurt shrugged, “there’s no competing with that, blondes are completely irresistible.”

“Draco Malfoy is blond and I find him almost all too resistible,” Hermione shook her head and shuddered at the thought.

“Yes, now that he’s aged a hundred years over the summer,” Kurt pointed out, “but think of when you first saw him before he started talking out the side of his neck.”

Hermione was quiet for a moment and a look of disgust washed over her, “Ew, you’re right. Lisa is also blond and Ron practically wet himself when she started talking to him.”

“You two aren’t making me feel better,” Ginny scoffed.

“Were we supposed to be doing that?” Hermione’s voice was lightly laced with sarcasm.

“I thought this was just some light gossip,” Kurt tried to keep his tone light but in all honesty, he didn’t want to make anyone feel better but rather wanted to luxuriate in the glow that follows doing a selfless dead like helping with Buckbeak’s defence, not undertake another selfless dead. Ginny gave a pleading look and both he and Hermione melted, “If it makes you feel any better, Mandy’s boobs just grew again and they’re amazing.”

“Kurt,” Hermione gave him a disciplinary swat and shook her head, “How is that supposed to make her feel better?”

“Well, if I say terrible things about her then I’m indirectly saying them about Ginny,” Kurt argued, “If Mandy is shit and Harry’s still dating her then that either says something about Harry or about Ginny, it’s simple logic.”

“I don’t remember that logic when you were saying Cho had horse teeth,” Hermione crossed her arms expectantly.

“I’m different, I don’t have the same… goodness in me,” Kurt shrugged, “I can only feel better through the misfortune of others or something new and shiny, besides I know that I have little kitten teeth so all that insult implies is that Cedric might have potentially had terrible taste but that has since been disproven.”

“You are so full of shit,” Hermione shook her head and gaped at him.

Kurt smiled and gave a bow of his head, “Undetectable extension charm.”

“I want you to know that I only agreed to that hogwash for your benefit,” Hermione narrowed her eyes maliciously, “I think Cho is exceptionally beautiful.”

“So do I,” Kurt gave a condescending grin, “I think her smiles shines like the sun and like the sun, she best stay ninety-two million nine hundred and sixty thousand miles away from me and my man.”

Ginny got to her feet, point back and forth between the pair of them before whispering, “you’re the worst.”

Kurt and Hermione both raised a hand and waved before chorusing, “we should do this again sometime.”

The pair dissolved into a fit of laughter, Madam Pince shushed them as they gathered their belongings and made for the exit arm in arm. At the door Finn was standing with his arms crossed and stern look of disapproval, “What did you two do to Ginny?”

“Why do think it’s us?” Hermione gave an innocent doe eyed stare.

“We’ve been behaving ourselves,” Kurt turned up his nose defiantly, trying to keep the sinister grin at bay.

Finn shook his head, “she asked me where to find you two when she left breakfast, now she’s storming angrily down the corridors; she pushed me and I almost fell.” The taller boy wiped fake tears away as they navigated the castle halls, “I thought I was going to die.”

“We didn’t do this,” Hermione held her hands up in surrender, a motion that Kurt echoed, “this is all Harry Potter’s fault.”

“Is this because he’s serial dating the Ravenclaw girls?” Finn shook his head as they crossed the great hall, out into the biting air; it wasn’t winter any more but it wasn’t quite spring yet which just meant the snow had stopped but it was still pretty chilli, “You bring someone to your level by teaching them to French and letting them feel Hermione’s boobs and suddenly they’re the cock of the town.”

“Are you sure you want to commit to that wording?” Kurt gave a small giggle at Hermione’s sharp hearing and wagged his finger at her dirty mind.

“Besides,” Kurt steadied himself against Finn as they scaled the hill down toward the quidditch pitch, “I think you're thinking of Neville.”

“Wait,” Finn’s face fell and he seemed to have drifted into deep contemplation, “Which ones Harry then?”

“Talk to your brother.”

“My brother?” Hermione’s voice hit an octave that wasn’t natural as she turned to face Kurt, who’d melted into a pile of laughter, “No offense Finn but I’m not claiming responsibility for that.”

“No offense taken,” Finn shrugged and smiled.

“Besides,” Hermione winked at Finn, “from what Neville has told me, only the truly unlucky have the misfortune of calling you a relative because they are apparently missing out.”

“Oh, you’re disgusting,” Kurt shuddered at the thought, “I ban you from looking at or speaking to my brother that way.”

Hermione gave a small giggle, “What if I can’t help myself?”

“You’ll find a way,” Kurt gave a pointed look, before forcing himself between the pair, “besides, I told you I was going to hook you up with Anthony Rickett.”

“Oh,” Finn clapped his hands with false excitement, “he’s cute.”

“Because that’s what I need in my life,” Hermione scoffed, “another Anthony.”

“What happened to your _Anthony and Cleopatra_ fantasy?” Kurt gawked at her.

“It committed suicide via asp,” Hermione gave him a cold smile, “Besides, like with Cleopatra, Anthony was clearly the wrong horse for me to be betting on.”

“If you don’t move on soon then Professor Trelawney wins,” Kurt rolled his eyes as he took his seat between his best friend and his boyfriend in the Hufflepuff box, “Harry is seeing the grim everywhere, it’s even his memories of the summer, you’re single and next I’ll be an evil overlord.”

“I think that’ll be a great colour on you,” Cedric smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek, Kurt smiled and returned it with a chaste peck on the lips, “Hmmm, berry.”

“I think you’re bluffing,” Kurt countered as they intertwined fingers.

“I find you're lack of faith…” Cedric smiled, “disturbing.”

Kurt blushed, “I find you’re lack of originality charming.”

“You killing us here,” Maxine O’Flaherty, the brute of a senior Hufflepuff girl, teased with fake gagging in place where necessary, “I think I might lose my breakfast.”

“I think they’re over selling it,” Heidi Macavoy, one of the female chasers, countered, “I might get myself a taste if the two of you don’t let up.”

Kurt pursed his lips and shook his head, “much too good for children.”

“Children?” Heidi gawked at him, “We’re sixth years, we’re older than both you and your little boyfriend.”

“As I might recall,” Cedric gave a sly smile as he slung an arm over Kurt’s shoulder, “Maxine isn’t exactly one for skimming over details; I still, with vivid detail, recall your retelling of the time you _‘Rode Oliver Wood’s face like a pony’_.”

“Oh my gosh,” Hermione smiled broadly, “Ten points to Hufflepuff.”

Kurt gave a wry smile, “I don’t know whether to be jealous or impressed.”

“I’m hoping it’s neither,” Cedric gave him a critical gaze, “I don’t know if I can take more competition, fighting Goyle for your affections is a battle all its own.”

“Not one you’ll soon lose,” Ernie scoffed, tossing back the cashews that the juniors were handing out as they paid their dues in a more amicable environment than the Slytherin Juniors, “You’ll sooner lose Kurt to Luna here.”

“Well,” Luna turned from the match which was progressing rather well; Ravenclaw had the upper hand which meant that Slytherin was an almost sure win for the quidditch cup, even though his house spirit was stirring Kurt knew that he wouldn’t be crushed if his house lost the cup but he would enjoy a win so much more. Luna tucked her luxurious pale golden locks behind her ears, “Ravenclaw does seem to be making a thing of beating Hufflepuff and I have had my eye on Kurt for quite some time.”

“You flatter me,” Kurt couldn’t help blushing.

“The Lady Galadriel has spoken,” Ernie, Justin and Finn chorused with an elegant and elaborate bow from each.

“You’ve styled yourself a lady?” Hermione raised a brow, Kurt could see slight condescend in her expression, “How ambitious yet strangely familiar.”

Luna shook her head and her hair shimmered in the sun like waves of a molten silver ocean in the summer sun, “This is not my doing.”

Hermione turned to the trio, interrupting their marshmallow eating competition, with an expectant look on her face, “Explain.” Finn gave a muffled answer around a mouthful of marshmallows, “Don’t even.”

The taller boy swallowed, “it’s a character from Tolkien’s Middle-Earth saga.”

“She’s described as fair beyond all comparison with decadent softly golden hair,” Justin explained.

Kurt and Hermione rolled their eyes, “because she’s blond.”

“The Lady Galadriel also possesses wisdom outside the fathoming of men and heart as strong and pure as mithril,” Finn smiled broadly.

“A goddess amongst the immortal,” Ernie finished as he finally managed to swallow the last of his marshmallows.

“Luna,” Kurt smiled, “your fan club is much more impressive than mine, nerdiness aside.”

“Them?” Luna tilted her head and wrinkled her nose, “you can do better, I can do better.”

“Ice cold,” the three boys exclaimed in chorus.

“If you don’t mind,” Anthony, the stern fifth year beater, spoke with a reproachful glare, “Some of us would like to watch the quidditch match; Gryffindor just pulled ahead.”

“Oh, that’s terrible,” Kurt heard himself exclaim.

“For everyone here,” Luna went on, “except Hermione.”

“Elaborate,” Heidi raised a curious brow.

“Well, if Gryffindor loses then every house except Gryffindor is in the running for the cup but if they win it becomes Slytherin vs Gryffindor,” Luna rolled her eyes, “if Gryffindor loses then Slytherin becomes the house to beat; hypothetically, if Ravenclaw beats Gryffindor today and both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw beat Slytherin then it’ll be the two of them in the final regardless of the result of Gryffindor vs. Slytherin but if Gryffindor wins today then they’re definitely in the final game.”

“How is that good news for me?” Kurt cocked his head, “that entire model is based on the demise of my house’s team.”

“You and Slytherin have a bit of a love hate relationship,” Hermione pointed out with a shrug.

“Love the house, hate the people,” Kurt admitted, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t have house pride.”

“I can understand why,” Anthony didn’t look at them as he spoke, just pointing out into the pitch, “the people in your house are gits.”

Kurt followed the boy’s finger to Slytherin team stand where Draco Malfoy was standing on Vincent Crabbe’s shoulders, Marcus Flint on Gregory Goyle’s shoulders and Blaise Zabini stood tall in long black hoods. Kurt could only face-palm, it was moments like this that made Slytherin a less than formidable house; Kurt could handle being stereotyped into the ‘evil’ category or being grouped with those who had a propensity for dark magic but he truly couldn’t stand the petty and childish behaviour most of his peers chose, he prided himself on making adult decisions and wished more of his classmates would adopt a similar mind-set. Whilst he was giving himself a self-satisfied smile and pat on the back for being more mature than most, something happened that made him second guess his graciousness; Harry Potter cast a Patronus.

~0~

Kurt had taken sometime to cool down whilst the Gryffindors celebrated their victory; he wanted to speak to Harry in a calm setting without any of the initial confusion that had been clouding his thoughts in the moments following Harry’s Patronus. Kurt didn’t want to accidently begin the conversation by telling Harry that he deserved to be able to cast a patronus more than Harry because he worked harder at it, that would be in bad taste. Instead Kurt stood behind the boy in the dining hall, fixed his hair before tapping him on the shoulder, Hermione smiled an encouragement from further down from where Harry sat with most of the Gryffindor third years.

“Kurt?” Ron exclaimed, Harry’s head turned sharply.

“Good evening,” Kurt tried to smile but he was sure it was just came across as a grimace, “Harry might I have a word.”

“Sure,” Harry moved to get up but Ron stopped him mid-motion.

“What’s so secretive that you have to say that needs you to go off and talk in some closet?” Ron raised a brow, “I think you can say whatever it is right here.”

Harry shot him an angry look but Kurt interjected before the boy could speak, “you thinking is an occasion to be celebrated, I would never go against that.” Kurt motioned for Dean Thomas to move over and he slipped in beside Harry, he could imagine Hermione warning him not to do this like he was about to because it would just make things worse between him and Ron but he couldn’t help himself.

“Shoot,” Harry prompted, giving Ron a devil’s glare as he spoke.

Kurt was silent for a moment longer before beginning to speak in Parseltongue, “ _I might be over stepping after dissolving our friendship but I’m concerned about you_.”

“ _Concerned?_ ” Harry’s voice was shaky, as if unsure it was saying the words correctly, “ _we’re speaking Parseltongue, aren’t we?_ ”

“Are you two seriously going to talk in Parseltongue?” Ron raised an irritated brow.

“They did want to go off and talk alone,” Dean pointed out with a shrug, “maybe you should have insisted they include you in their conversations.”

Ron gave den an unimpressed glare, “come off it.”

“He’s right you know,” Seamus chuckled at Ron’s expense.

“ _This conversation is quite intimate and personal,_ ” Kurt bowed, “ _you’ll probably think me mad by the end, I think I’m mad right now_.”

“ _What is it?_ ” Harry looked concerned.

“I…” Kurt heard that come out wrong, “ _I’m beginning to think that just maybe in some crazy way all her own, Professor_ Trelawney _is right._ ” Kurt took a lungful of air to steady himself, “ _not that you’re going to die, I don’t think it’s that literal but…_ ”

“ _But what Kurt?_ ” Harry looked less than impressed, “ _you’re the one who told me not to believe Professor_ Trelawney _because she’s a fraud._ ”

“ _I don’t know how to explain this,_ ” Kurt took in a deep breath, he wasn’t nervous but he didn’t want to approach this with less than the delicacy it required, “ _but I accidently consulted a seer and got a very similar fortune to the one Professor_ Trelawney _gave me; he mentioned the darkness._ ”

“ _You don’t think you’re really going evil,_ ” Harry’s face was contorted with concern, “ _do you?_ ”

“ _Me? Evil?_ ” Kurt gave his friend a weak smile, was Harry still his friend? It was confusing to consider at present, “ _I think ‘the darkness’ may be a person._ ”

Harry’s eyes grew wide, “Voldemort?” the boy reached out and grabbed Kurt’s hand, “ _is he inside you?_ ”

“ _Nobody is inside me you filthy little boy,_ ” Kurt reprimanded with a giggle, “ _I think the darkness might be_ Sirius Black _; black is a pretty dark colour_.”

“What are you two saying about You-Know-Who and Black?” Ron demanded in an irate whisper.

“ _If he’s not inside you then how does that make sense?_ ” Harry raised a brow, ignoring Ron’s pleas to be included in the conversation, “ _unless you’re somehow related and_ Black _blood flows in your veins._ ”

“ _That’s not why I’m telling you this,_ ” Kurt paused and took a breath, “ _the second seer said more, he said to beware of the one twice named._ ”

“ _What does that even mean?_ ” Harry narrowed his gaze.

“ _I think it’s Professor_ Lupin _,_ ” Kurt braced himself for the arsenal that would follow such a statement but none came, “Remus _was one of the twins raised by wolves in_ Rome _’s foundation myth, along with his twin_ Romulus _who went on to kill him but I’m digressing; both names are believed to be variations of the Latin_ Lupus _, the latter being more influenced by the first._ Lupin _is also derived from_ Lupus _, that makes it the same name twice._ ”

“ _How do you know that?_ ” Harry snapped, “ _Professor_ Lupin _was my parents friend-_ ”

“ _So was_ Black _,_ ” Kurt sighed, “ _I read the myth of_ Romulus and Remus _some time back in children’s book,_ Lupus _is a constellation and you should know it from astronomy class._ ”

“ _If Professor_ Lupin _wanted me dead, why wouldn’t he let the dementors kill me on the train?_ ” Harry shook his head, “ _Why would he teach me how to defend myself against the dementors?_ ”

“ _Because then you can get past them and go find Black_ ,” Kurt pointed out, Harry had taken this much well and he could return to his normal dementor, “ _You have a history of going where you shouldn’t be going and doing what you shouldn’t be doing._ ”

“ _I’d never seen it that way but so you keep telling me,_ ” Harry gave a weak smile. They fell into a comfortable silence and in that moment it was as if the world were as it had been there inside their Parseltongue bubble, “ _Kurt? You know_ Cho Chang _?_ ”

Kurt raised a curious brow at how Harry whispered the question, “ _I know of her; she dated my boyfriend before me and she’s on my muggle activities club team._ ”

“ _What do you think of her?_ ” Harry chewed his lip nervously.

“ _She’s very pretty and I hear she’s equally as smart,_ ” Kurt admitted honestly, “ _Are things not working out between you and_ Mandy _? Are you looking for the next Ravenclaw girl to date?_ ”

“ _I was never with_ Mandy _,_ ” Harry shuddered, “ _She’s so rude, I don’t know where that rumour started but_ Lisa _dumped me because I was boring; she thought our adventures were a recurring and scheduled event._ ”

“ _That poor naïve girl,_ ” Kurt chuckled, unsure why they were still speaking in Parseltongue, “ _if she wants to know when our adventures are going to be then she should join the other side because they actually plan their moves unlike other people._ ”  Kurt gave a pointed look a small smile to Harry, “Just think about what I said, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry furrowed his brow, “I’ll think about it but I don’t know what I think of it.”

“Knowing it’s floating at the back of your head allows me some semblance of comfort,” Kurt got up and gave a small wave to the group of Gryffindor boys, “good night gentleman.”

Kurt turned on heels and left the dining hall; he hadn’t intended on having that conversation in any form of company, not even Hermione because he wouldn’t have undermined his intelligence in her presence by telling her that he believed something he’d heard from a seer. Kurt had made sure to mention only that single encounter with the man from Hogsmead, he didn’t want anyone to know that he’d gone back just before Christmas and sought the man out after asking Professor McGonagall about him; she mentioned he was the son of Professor Trelawney predecessor, an actual seer named Argyris Mopsus.

Kurt had figured that if Professor Trelawney claimed to have gotten her gift of the sight from an ancestor and Kurt had gotten Parseltongue from some unknown relative then maybe the crazy man on the street corner was the real deal. Kurt had found him, sat him down and written all the dribble that had leaked from the seemingly demented young adult’s mind; the wealth of knowledge that had burst forth had been more than Kurt could have thought possible from a crackpot who got an Outstanding on their Divination NEWT. Kurt admitted that he neither truly understood nor really cared about most of the information but it was the one thing that had stuck in the back of Kurt’s mind for the longest time between their two meetings; ‘You who shall most shame your mother must most fear his return’.

One word, _Shall_ , future tense. That single word had brought back to the forefront of his mind the question of his paternity, he had gone back just to hear if it had been a slip of the tongue that had sent him into emotional turmoil and into an intense internal monologue but he’d put in the time and been rewarded with only a titbit of information that he was truly looking for; ‘ _Of you who only five knew, soon four will remain but only those who saw shall know and only those that don’t know shall speak_ ’. Kurt knew now that there were people out there who actually knew something and who could potentially help him get over this mess so he could move on with his life, five people out of the five billion people on the planet and soon one of those five would be gone.

~0~

Kurt was moving autonomously, his mind was fuzzy and the words were swirling around his head too quickly for him to assimilate a thought; he wasn’t sure how his body was so quickly moving in the darkened halls because his mind had slowed to a syrupy state as if he was still asleep but he’d never been one for bad dreams and what he’d heard could only be his reality, he was reacting. Kurt knew dreams were a place of beauty and serenity, an escape from the afflictions of reality to a land of higher order thinking and art but this wasn’t that place, the art on these walls peered back at Kurt in confusion, this was the nightmare of life.

When Kurt had heard that Sirius Black had been in the castle he had feared the worst, it’s not the kind of thing normal people normally say but he worried for a moment that wouldn’t have a thing to wear to Harry’s funeral; what kind of funeral would his family throw him? Would they allow his freaky friends to attend or would it be a family event? What would have become of Sirius Black? Would he have ended his time as a fugitive now that his work had been done or would he go on to cause them greater pain by taking up is murderous ways and following in his master footsteps?

Kurt took a deep breath when he reached the courtyard outside entrance hall, he looked up at the stars and cleared his head for a moment; he’d been reeling, speeding off the tracks there for a moment but his solitude would soon end and he couldn’t be less than his best. There had been no incident due to a clerical error on the part of a sociopath and today would be another day.

“Caca-ah,” the high pitched call came from across the courtyard where the cover of night was darkest, it took all Kurt had not to roll his eyes at that signal.

“You are aware of how conspicuous that signal is, right?” Kurt fixed a stray hair and smiled, “I’ll forgive you because you almost died last night.”

Kurt looked into Ron’s indigo eyes and his stomach turned, he’d let their thing get to him and almost ruined not just their friendship but nearly disintegrated their clique because he was too deep in his own head to go through the motions. Ron shook his head, “Don’t joke abut that, I almost shit myself when I woke to black hovering over me; I’d been having a great dream and then I opened my eyes and there he was. I’m pretty sure I said a little prayer, you know just in case. All I could think about as I looked into those pitch black eyes was how I’d dogged you, what was looking back at me wasn’t human, it wasn’t you and I felt so bad about making yo feel like the devil.”

“I guess this is the part where we have that long overdue conversation we’ve been avoiding forever and get past this part of our lives,” Kurt pursed his lips and raised a brow, “that’s where George put his money, Fred thinks we’re going to make out.”

Ron wrinkled his nose, “I really don’t want to.”

“I’m seeing someone,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “maybe in another universe where the world isn’t governed by the laws of physics but rather life is kept in check by sunshine and rainbows.”

“You mean the sixties?” Ron chuckled, “I never took you for swinging hippie.”

“To the contrary,” Kurt gave whistle sharp giggle as the sky began to catch light, “the very idea of such a world makes me ill, far too festive for my liking.”

“What went so wrong in your life that made you so cold?” Ron shuddered.

Kurt smiled, for the first time in a long time Ron and he were speaking without attacking each other, “nothing, I’m not going to blame my mother dying or cancer, I just believe that happiness is something you condition yourself to feel by only viewing the pleasant parts of every moment of life.”

“You need Oprah,” Ron chuckled, “You’re happy with Cedric, right? I know I’ve spoken out my ass about the two of you but I worry sometimes.”

“I enjoy our time together, yes,” Kurt found himself fiddling with his hair and lowered his hand, “while I’m touched that you worry, you really don’t have to; I’m an adult.”

“You’re thirteen,” Ron scoffed.

“Why do people always say that?” Kurt smiled, he took a deep breath, “enjoying the time I spend with Cedric doesn’t mean I’m happy because I now it’s temporary, the fact that you got so touched about my dabbling in a fancy with a boy that in ten years will probably be a boyfriend I vaguely remember; that made me angry.”

“You’re going to vaguely remember the boy you mooned over for the last three years,” Ron raised a brow as morning light started to colour the world around them.

“It’s more like two years,” Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose, “but I just don’t think I’m still going to be with my high school boyfriend when I’m graduating from college; time is a cruel mistress and all you can do is live in the imperfect system of swinging from one extreme to the next.”

Ron got a devious smile on his face, “like a testicle.”

“Like a pendulum,” Kurt’s voice went sharp in surprise, “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“You know my parents have been together since they met at Hogwarts,” Ron shrugged with a lopsided smile, “maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

“Your parents also have seven kids,” Kurt scoffed and Ron shrank, “I see Harley for four weeks a year and that’s more than I need in my life until she’s a proper human, we’re very different people.”

“Why?”

“Because deep down inside me there is something dark and twisted that drives me to greater heights than most people can imagine,” Kurt pulled his coat tighter around himself as a morning breeze swept past them, “I’ll probably irreparably ruin my love life long before I get my first job, the nice thing about being a cynic is that I don’t need to sell myself dreams.”

“Apparently you don’t mince words either,” Ron furrowed his brow.

“That’s how this pendulum,” he gestured to the pair of them, “works. You’re an pleasure-seeking idiot and I’m a self-absorbed bitch; sometimes we’re polar opposites and we hate each other, sometimes we’re best friends and then there are those moment when we’re at rest in perfect harmony.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

“Hagrid,” Hermione’s voice was small and cautious as she tried not to upset the clearly distraught man, “How did the trial go?”

Hagrid sniffled loudly as he tried to pour tea, “Well, first everybody took turns discussing why we were there.” Hagrid pulled out an abnormally large handkerchief and loudly blew his nose, if they’d been closer to shipping route and Kurt hadn’t witnessed it for himself he might have mistaken the honking for that of a foghorn. Hagrid stammered on, from the way his voice caught, Kurt knew the news wasn’t good, “Then I stood up and said my bit, told them that Buckbeak was a good hippogriff and he always kept his feathers nice and clean.” Hagrid let his words hang in the air, not for drama as Kurt might do so but to catch his breath and steady his voice, “Then Lucius Malfoy stood up and said Buckbeak was a savage animal and asked for the worst.”

“You’ve been sacked?” Ron asked.

Hagrid grabbed the cast iron kettle from the flames with his bare hands and dropped it in the same instance, spilling the boiling water all over the worn wooden floor of the hut; the man didn’t cry out from the burns he’d suffered but from deep sorrow, “Buckbeak’s been sentenced to death.”

The words filled the room without being spoken particularly loudly, reverberating off the walls and echoing in each of their heads. Kurt took a deep breath and decided to say the second thing that came to his mind due to the inappropriate nature of the first in light of the sombre situation, “Surely, we can appeal the decision.”

“We’ll all work on it together this time,” Harry assured Hagrid, “We’ll keep at it till Buckbeak is proven innocent.”

Kurt wanted to remind Harry that they were in the middle of their third year exams and that finding time for this conversation was a stretch; they wouldn’t have the time to ‘keep at’ an appeal but Hagrid saved him the trouble, “They’ll be executing him on Friday afternoon, there’ll be no appeals.”

Kurt looked at his friends; Hermione was distraught, while Harry and Ron were fuming. Hermione spoke in a voice that was less sturdy than before, “Then we’ll stay with you.”

“I don’t want you seeing something like that,” Hagrid protested, “Besides, Professor Dumbledore said he’d stay with me. A fine man Dumbledore.”

“A fine man indeed,” Kurt echoed subconsciously.

“Well,” Hagrid sniffed loudly and wiped his eyes with the cuff of threadbare off colour shirt, “At least you're all getting along again.”

The quartet was silent for a moment, unsure how to go on but it was clear that Hagrid was dealing with the situation by pushing it out of his mind. In an effort to accommodate the large man, Hermione chose to lead with a joke, “I think Harry and Ron timed it so we’d be on amicable terms during exam time.”

“Oh no,” Harry clutched his head dramatically, “We’ve been caught out, abort mission.”

This earned a small chuckle from Hagrid but there was an underlying and lingering sadness that distinguished it from the gigantic man’s normal hearty guffaw but it was definitely a step in the right direction.

“Mission aborted,” Ron smiled with slight villainy that made Kurt almost proud, “Besides, Scabbers is missing again and you know what that means.”

In an instant the mood of the room turned to one of exhaustion, “You’ve lost him again?” Harry groaned, less than impressed with his best friend, “You should consider getting him a leash.”

“You really should be more careful with your things Ronald,” Hermione scolded half-heartedly, “I thought Neville was supposed the forgetful one.”

“Well,” Ron stretched lazily, “Somebody fixed that.”

“I don’t appreciate that wording,” Kurt chortled, “it makes me sound like some mad scientist who performed some morally dubious procedure on Neville.”

“Wait a minute,” Hermione held up her hands with a questioning look on her face, “You’re telling me you aren’t a mad scientist.”

“No,” Kurt gave her a pointed look, “Not even a sane one.”

“Well,” Hermione shrugged, “I’m just going to have to re-think this entire friendship.”

“Haha, you're so funny,” Kurt jeered bushy haired friend, “maybe you should take this act on the road.”

“I’m sorry,” Ron interjected, attempting to interrupt a staring contest that had broken out between Hermione and Kurt, “But I seem to remember this being about me and my missing rat.”

“You know some species of animals go off into the wild to die alone,” Kurt didn’t break eye contact with Hermione even to address a matter as sensitive to Ron as this, “when their time comes they wonder into the wilderness and wait for death. I don’t know if rats do it because they’re rats and who wants to know anything about them and how they behave? Knowing they spread disease is more than enough for most.”

“Kurt!” Hermione reprimanded without breaking eye contact, “sensitivity.”

Kurt scoffed, “it’s a rat. I’m sure our lives are much better without him.”

“We made this person our friend,” Harry sounded despondent as he came to this realisation, “out of all the other kids here, we picked this one.”

“You had cash to burn and you knew I’m not one lightly returned,” Kurt broke eye contact to give a sweeping condescending grin, “be happy, I’m high maintenance but you can look at me whenever you want.”

“Firstly, I so won that staring contest,” Hermione gloated, “Secondly, I really feel like setting you on fire right now- I think I finally understand the Salem Witch Hunts.”

“Woah,” Ron held his hands up in surrender, “That escalated quickly.”

“Got so dark so fast,” Harry shook his head.

“People lost their families,” Kurt said, riding Ron and Harry’s train of thought.

“Kurt gets to say insensitive and hurtful things all the time,” Hermione screeched her defence at an octave so high only dogs could hear it.

“Kurt doesn’t have a soul,” Harry glumly shook his head.

“Plus there’s that thing inside him,” Ron said with a rigorous nod.

“New rule,” Kurt held up an interjectory finger, “nobody talks about my contents; I don’t want any mention of anything being inside of me from any of you. It sounds salacious coming from the rest of you.”

There was a tense and awkward silence for a moment but Harry soon broke it, “So, what you’re saying is that if one is from the house that currently holds the Quidditch Cup, one cannot discuss your contents… seems fair; Gryffindor has the cup and are champions while Slytherin gets to talk about what’s inside you.”

Kurt gave him a tight lipped smile as the room filled with laughter, “How’s about; you can talk about my contents to your heart’s content when you’ve smacked Draco Malfoy in the face.”

The three smirked at him, “Challenge accepted.”

~0~

“But Professor Dumbledore,” Kurt pleaded with the headmaster, “Hagrid is distraught. Is there absolutely nothing we can do?”

Professor Dumbledore took a deep breath and stroked his long white beard as an obvious put on to show that he was currently engaged in profound contemplation, “At present there is nothing to be done.”

“But there always something to be done,” Kurt argued, “It’s just that sometimes we’re too involved in the situation to objectively see the possibilities, that’s where hindsight comes into play but I don’t think retrospective wisdom will do us any good in this situation.”

“Let the course run,” Professor Dumbledore reclined in his chair, “Time can only tell.”

Kurt took a deep breath, “You know very well that under normal circumstances I would dismiss the matter and account it to the necessities of life and nature but… I’m afraid it might severely devastate Hagrid, his confidence in the classroom has suffered enough; all we had to do for the exam was feed lettuce to flobberworms. I need to be academically challenged.”

“Young Kurt,” The elderly wizard gave a small grin, “it is only when we relinquish control for the time being that we can truly achieve the results we desire.”

“Be careful Professor,” Kurt smirked, “your age is showing.”

“Or is it your own age that troubles you?” Professor Dumbledore gave him a mischievous smile, “You are about to delve deep into your teenage years.”

“I did that last year,” Kurt shrugged, “fourteen is an insignificant age, although when one considers that left handed people generally live shorter lives and are more susceptible to autoimmune disease then it is quite possible that I’m having a quarter life crisis; fourteen and I’ve achieved so little, it’s a wonder I’m not emotionally devastated as well.” Kurt adjusted his hair, fixing a hair that was perfectly in place, “I know you have sway over the minister for magic, can’t you convince him to pardon Buckbeak or possibly get a retrial; knowing that this trial went as I’d anticipated it to would allow me a certain piece of mind.”

Professor Dumbledore leaned forward and nodded understandingly before reclining in his seat once more, “How have you been sleeping?”

“It’s the middle of exams,” Kurt furrowed his brow, “I’ve obviously been sleeping restlessly, not to mention that Sirius Black has broken into the castle twice and might possibly be hiding somewhere in the castle as we speak waiting to kill my friends.” Kurt pursed his lips, “People keep saying there isn’t a place safer than Hogwarts but I can think of a handful of places off the top of my head that don’t have three headed dogs on the third floor, Giant snakes in the basement, man eating spiders in the back yard and don’t keep getting broken into by dark lords, mass murderers and trolls.”

“So you haven’t been sleeping well?”

“No, I haven’t been sleeping well,” Kurt forgot to remove the condescending bite from his tone, “if you must know, I’ve been having awful dreams.”

“Nightmares?”

“Nightmares insinuates that I’m afraid of them,” Kurt scoffed, “they are nothing to be afraid of but are rather are unpleasant in nature.”

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“Okay, you are pushing it,” Kurt quirked a brow, “if you want to play psychiatrist then you're going to need a reclining couch, a suit and a less cool beard. Something more fastidious, keep the glasses though, mental health professionals never have normal spectacles.”

“I suppose you believe yourself to be the b’s and e’s with your horn-rimmed spectacles a few decades too late,”

“They’re the perfect complement to the formal look of sophistication and elegance that is consistent with my personal style,” Kurt quirked a brow as if challenging the headmaster to argue differently.

“That’s nice but are you going to tell me about your bad dreams or not?”  Professor Dumbledore hadn’t taken the bait as many of those whom he perceived as being intellectually inferior to him might have, it was refreshing to have his A-game brushed off as juvenile even if it was by somebody a hundred years his senior.

“Not,” Kurt crossed his arms and decided to play this game a little differently, “you haven’t earned the right to hear about my dreams.”

~0~

Time had quickly gotten away from Kurt as exam after exam whizzed by, Kurt was not by all means exhausted but his bed was a little more crowded than he was used to these days. During the exam period he and Hermione were not just doubling up on time but rather tripling and some days quadrupling their study and preparation efforts which meant that Kurt had to do the same with his sleep. At any given time there were multiple Kurts milling about the castle hard at work: Studying with Hermione in the library; with Cedric in Greenhouse three; with Ron, Harry and Hermione in the great hall; or alone in the abandoned transfiguration classroom he called his own.

Due to his extensive and thorough study regime, sitting for the exams had been a dream and he’d Aced every one, that is until Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lupin had forgone the traditional written examination in favour of a practical one because he believed that a theoretical knowledge was useless if one couldn’t apply it in at least a pseudorealistic situation. Kurt wasn’t upset so much that it was a practical exam but more the lack of warning on Professor Lupin part; add to the mix the fact that Kurt was still suspicious of Professor Remus “same name twice” Lupin’s intentions and it made for a very anxious Kurt.

Kurt had approached the examination obstacle course with the same cold calculation that he did all scholastic tasks and, unsurprisingly, it went well; it was textbook stuff in a controlled environment, he might as well have been sitting at a desk and writing a theoretical exam because his wand was keeping time with his eidetic memory in much the same way a pen did. Kurt warded off hinkypunks with the slightest flick of his wand and was dominating the obstacle course with no help from his Order of the White Lotus training. In short, all was going well for Kurt until he came to the hollowed out remains of a tree where, upon stepping into the darkness Kurt had been emotionally devastated by what had been waiting for him.

It was only when Professor Lupin had found him curled in a foetal position at the feet of a tall, leanly sturdy, yet plainly beautiful woman that was chastising him and taunting him with jeers of his shortcomings that the reality of what was happening first hit him; it had happened when the woman had seized slinging insults at Kurt to transform into the same silver orb he had seen multiple times before that Kurt’s mind realised it was a boggart. Though his mind knew now that it had not been real, his body would not respond accordingly; the tears kept coming and his long, slender frame stayed curled and he had to be carried and placed on the side lines next to an inconsolable Hermione.

“What happened to you?” the tears didn’t stop but Kurt wasn’t sobbing loudly like Hermione so for the most part his words were intelligible.

“I… it was Professor McGonagall,” Hermione sounded distant and haunted, “she said I failed everything and was being expelled from Hogwarts and barred from the magical and muggle schooling system.”

“Oh my god,” Kurt gasped sitting up straight in utter shock, “That’s awful.”

“Then Professor Lupin told me I got a ‘B’,” she sobbed loudly, before consoling herself enough to speak once more, “What got you?”

“She was standing there in her charcoal pantsuit and white apron,” Kurt’s voice shuddered and the movement echoed through his body, “my mother, and she was just so disappointed in every decision I’d made; from choosing Hogwarts over Eton to the friends I’ve made and even Cedric.”

“Oh,” Hermione seemed to be sobering up, “that boggart was truly a nasty piece of work.”

“Yes, the boggart,” Kurt sneered, “Nasty indeed.”

“I was never ready for that experience,” Hermione pulled a tissue from her pocket and handed it to Kurt before grabbing one for herself.

Kurt wiped his face and spoke between gritted teeth, “I was never prepared.”

“Are you feeling better Kurt?” Professor Lupin handed him his marked rubric and it had a big red ‘B’ on the top next to a less than satisfactory mark. Kurt couldn’t tear his eyes from the piece of parchment before him, he had near perfect scores for a lot of the work covered in the obstacle course which was to be expected due to his near perfect recollection of everything he read.

It was then that Kurt had a sudden realisation, he knew the entire syllabus off by heart after studying it for thirty hours the previous day, “I’d like contest this mark.”

“Now Kurt,” Professor Lupin gave him a wry smile and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “this is a very good mark, along with your course work it will make for a more than satisfactory final result.”

Kurt scoffed, “I don’t want a satisfactory result, I want an exemplary one and that’s why I’m contesting Hermione’s mark as well as my own.”

“On what grounds?” the man gave a friendly smirk that reminded Kurt how handsome he was for his age.

“You obstructed our learning in order to prevent us from doing well in the exam,” Kurt needed this win, he didn’t like it when he worked hard on something and it didn’t pan out. Maybe this win was what he needed in order to absolve himself of the loss of Buckbeak’s trial which had been hanging over his head like a dark cloud, “you taught everyone how to defeat a boggart, yes, but not everyone was given the opportunity to face a boggart in class. The day of the boggart lesson you let everyone in the class have a try at facing the boggart except for Harry, Hermione and I.”

“Kurt,” Hermione interjected, “Harry faced his boggart fine enough, besides you’re being rude and disrespecting teacher.”

“Yes, Harry faced the boggart because he got to face it multiple time when Professor Lupin was giving him extra lessons on the Patronus charm,” Kurt pointed out, “Harry’s Boggart is a dementor, he practiced a NEWT Level spell on his fear.” Kurt took a deep breath, “Everybody else knew what to expect when they saw the boggart, we were blindsided as if Professor Lupin had handed out that question from the exam to everybody but us; sure we know the work but we weren’t ready for the work to be so personal and to hit so close to home.”

“You earn that emerald and silver you wear like almost no one before you,” Professor Lupin chortled, “in the same breath with which I congratulate you for staying true to the values of house, I must applaud you for watching out for your friends and must concede to your demands and exclude the boggart part of your exam from your final mark.”

“Thank you Professor,” Kurt let out a sigh of relief, he turned and smiled at Hermione before letting out a loud yawn, “I really needed that one. I think I’m going to sleep for the next fifteen hours.”

“What about tomorrow’s Divination exam?” Hermione was horror struck by the idea of slacking the day before an exam.

“Hermione,” Kurt took a deep breath and sighed once more in defeat, “You have to know your limits and I am tired; we magically condensed about forty-five days into a couple of seconds during the course of the year. There may be no physical toll but I am mentally exhausted.” Kurt was leading his best friend into the castle by hand, “Divination is a lost cause, we’ve tried everything and the highest mark we’ve achieved between the two of us was seventy-three. I bitched my way out of this ‘B’ and with the tutelage of Finn and Cedric I did better than I expected to in potions and transfiguration; besides, it’s not like I was going to be first anyway.”

“Oh, you are definitely exhausted,” Hermione’s eyes doubled in size out of shock, “you should really get to bed before you’re accidently kind to someone.”

Kurt chuckled, “or I complement your hair.”

“Honey,” Hermione shot him a condescending smile, “You’re tired not dead.”

“It’ll happen someday for you,” Kurt patted her shoulder with a matching air of condescent.

“Maybe in another time,” Hermione sighed facetiously.

“Maybe in another country,” Kurt completed the movie quote from their favourite movie.

~0~

Kurt gazed deeply into the Crystal Ball and hoped to see something he could report on, he’d managed to read the tea leaves only satisfactorily and he needed to perform well in order to even dream of a descent result but at this moment a ‘B’ seemed like a treat outside of his reach. All Kurt could see was his own beautiful reflection, he didn’t mind looking at himself at all and in fact it was one of his favourite non-intellectually taxing pass time but now was the time to be taxing his mind down to the last morsel of knowledge he had; it was then that Kurt decided it was time to carry out his and Hermione’s sinisterly devious plan, he had seen what an actual seer looked like in the beyond and he knew Professor Trelawney would drink up the dramatics and care less about what he said.

Kurt grabbed the crystal ball, rolled his eyes back into his skull, tilted his head toward the ceiling and let his shoulders begin to shake as if jolted by an electric current; when he spoke he lowered his voice to the point where it was barely a rumble, “I see, I see!”

Professor Trelawney smiled broadly, “Are you in the beyond? Your aura is pulsing my child.”

“A handsome weather face before me,” Kurt rumbled on like the aftermath of a thunder storm, “beware the one twice named.”

“Child, you have reached the beyond and are finally seeing through your third eye,” Professor Trelawney’s tone was jubilatory, “Tell me all you see.”

“He who shall most shame his mother must most fear the return,” Kurt let his voice tremble on the word return, “for he who only five knew, soon four will remain but only those who saw shall know and only those that don’t know shall speak.” Kurt felt a pang of guilt, this was academically deplorable but not against the rules, “In three in four he will have to choose between two, the one unchosen will be left standing.”

Kurt’s voice broke on the last word and he hoped his acting had been sufficient to earn him a good mark, “What… Truly a reflection of my teaching prowess, I have pushed a student removed from the third sight to beyond.”

 “I was in the beyond?” Kurt feigned ignorance of his performance, the last bit in the stage production of _Faker on the Roof_ had reminded him of how Brittany had just gone on as if nothing happened when she had delivered him with that pointless math problem.

“Oh yes, it was truly a phenomenon to behold,” the woman’s eyes opened wide and magnified to insectoid proportions behind her thick spectacles, “You score my fourth ‘A’ of the day, a true feat when one considers the currents run backwards.” Kurt couldn’t think of four people who came after him alphabetically who would score that high in divination but didn’t protest, “the waters must be running clear in this spot because you are my second student of the day to reach the beyond, Mr Potter and I were in the beyond together.”

“Harry Potter?” Kurt heard himself asking.

“Honestly,” Professor Trelawney shot him a disapproving look, “how many Mr Potters do you know?”

“Just the one,” Kurt grabbed his test script and shot to his feet, wondering what Harry had seen in the beyond if he’d truly been there; maybe knowing what to look for would make this subject more easily understood if he knew what the pinnacle of its academic principals looked like. Kurt stormed by Hermione with only a small nod, she knew that it meant faking the beyond with their preconceived prophecies was a go and that Professor Trelawney would fall for it.

“How did it go?” Ron slung an arm over Kurt’s shoulders, “Let me guess, Professor Trelawney was not impressed.”

“Au contraire mon ami,” Kurt smirked.

“You know I don’t speak French,” Ron scowled.

Kurt waved the parchment with his result in front of Ron’s nose, “I got an A.”

“You?” Ron’s eyeballs looked on the verge of falling out of his skull due to how wide his eyes shot open.

“Don’t act surprised Ronald,” Kurt gave him a playful swat on the shoulder, “I get A’s all the time.”

“Not in Divination you don’t!” Ron stomped his foot like toddler throwing a tantrum, “How did you do it?”

“I faked being in the beyond,” Kurt shrugged.

“You did what!?!”

“Calm down,” Kurt condescendingly patted his friend on the top of the head, “it’s like faking an orgasm, everyone does it at least once.”

“Orgasm,” Ron looked to be having an angina attack, “Are you and Cedric?”

Kurt shuddered at the hand gesture Ron made, one hand hooped and the other slipping in and out of the ring, “Carole told me!” Kurt then crossed his arms indignantly and turned up his nose, “And if we were I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Who would you tell?” Ron frowned.

“Hermione,” Kurt quirked a brow, “Carole, Maybe Finn? Definitely Harry in Parseltongue. Luna, Neville, Fred and George, Ginny and even your mother but not you.”

“Why not me?” Ron whined, “We’re like best friends, we’re testicles.”

“Pendulums,” Kurt corrected, “you would over react and you can’t keep a secret.”

“I keep secrets all the time,” Ron countered before dropping his voice to a whisper, “I haven’t told anyone about that time in second year when we…”

“What did you two do Kurt?” Fred asked, appearing seemingly out of nowhere.

George appeared at his side, “Because I thought you only did things with Cedric.”

“Or at least that’s what you told George when he offered,” Fred shook his head in disapproval.

“I even sent you a singing valentine of your favourite song,” George protested.

Kurt smirked, “as I recall that was a practical joke and a very embarrassing one at that.”

“But it’s so us,” George teased.

“Beauty,” Fred pointed at George before turning to Kurt, “and the Beast.”

Kurt started blinking in rapidly, it wasn’t long before the successive blinking was joined by vibrating, Ron Scowled at his brothers, “You’ve broken my Kurt.”

“‘WE’?” George quirked a brow, “I’m not the one who called him beast.”

“It was your idea,” Fred shot back at his twin brother.

“My idea?” George squealed at an octave that made Kurt’s ears ring, “if anyone’s to blame it is Kurt.”

“I’m to blame for you two coming over here to interrogate and insult me?” Kurt scoffed, “Do you know what happens when you fly too close to the sun?”

“You get covered in melted butter,” The three Weasleys chorused with giant smiles.

“You get burned,” Kurt smiled broadly before realising it wasn’t his voice, Neville gave him a broad smile, “Never ask a wizard about the sun again.”

Kurt giggled as his mind came back to him, “right, no science.” Kurt pursed his lips, “what do you think the sun is?”

“You know everything and yet not even a little folk lore?” Neville chuckled.

“I… I have a boyfriend!” Kurt crossed his arms, “Besides, I don’t have any obligation to know the ins and outs of wizarding folk lore because it isn’t fact and it’s not a subject requirement.”

“You’re a bitch,” George scowled.

“Oh, I’m sorry but did we just meet?” Kurt raised a patronising brow, “Didn’t think so, so don’t present old facts as new findings; it’s called plagiarism.”

“Ooh, you’re a sassy bitch,” Fred smirked.

Ron and Kurt both moved to speak but Neville stepped forward, “He’s Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, get used to it.” The pair stared down at him, “Dismissed.”

Kurt looked the boy up and down, he was impressed, “Confidence is a good colour on you.”

Neville blushed brightly, “You’re my person and you told me to bring you this,” Neville chuckled,  
“You said that you desperately needed your school bag before you went down to Hagrid’s.”

“Ah fuck,” Hermione let out a defeated sigh as she came up behind him, “that’s today.

 


	12. Chapter 12

“Don’t tell me you’d forgotten,” Ron wagged a finger at Kurt and Hermione, “We’ve known for a week, barely long enough to forget.”

“We didn’t forget,” Kurt snapped back defensively, “We simply cast the memory aside. This whole ordeal is a bit ominous when one thinks about it, even for us.”

“I understand completely why you’d want to push this whole thing out of your minds,” Harry appeared out of nowhere, offering a comforting smile that made his eyes shine like emeralds in the sun, “the feeling of helplessness that fills me every time I think of what Hagrid must be going through and how there’s nothing we could do to help him.”

“Makes studying and thinking about yourself seem kind of selfish,” Hermione hugged her arms tightly around herself, “there was nothing to do, in order for our lives to go on we had to supress the memory. Just for the time being.”

“I do believe my mother was disappointed enough for all of us,” Kurt muttered under his breath, “Let’s go cry over spilled milk.”

“Yeah,” Ron shook his head, “Don’t say it like that to Hagrid.”

“Or any living human being ever again,” Harry added with a comforting pat on the back as they climbed down the many flights of stairs from the divination tower.

“Do you guys see what I meant,” Hermione groaned, “Kurt gets to say whatever he likes and nobody reprimands or gives him any grief for being insensitive.”

“We discussed this,” Ron rolled his eyes, “Kurt-”

“Before you go any further and possibly discuss my contents,” Kurt pointed an accusatory finger at his red-haired friend, “ask yourself, have I smacked Draco Malfoy’s face?”

“Dammit,” Ron snapped his fingers angrily, “It’ll happen for me someday too.”

“Till then,” Kurt quirked a brow. When they came to the ground floor landing they were greeted by an unwelcomed sight; Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle and, worst of all, Draco Malfoy were standing at the top of the slope overlooking Hagrid’s hut. Kurt felt the blood boiling in his veins, “Hoping to take in the afternoon show, don’t scream too loudly Draco.” Kurt raised his voice an octave before beginning his imitation of Draco, “Oh, it’s killed me.”

Draco sneered, “Don’t speak to me you fi-”

“uh-uh uh,” Kurt wagged a finger and pursed his lips, “I’d trek carefully if I were you. Madam Pomphry has seen enough of you and your whingeing, she might not regrow your eyebrows this time.”

“Then my father will have your head next,” Draco tried to front but Kurt could see him swallow a lump, “I’ll put it up next to that silly chicken’s in the Slytherin Dungeon.”

Hermione scoffed, “Your father and his cheap extensions don’t scare us.”

“Don’t talk about my father you little mudblood whore,” a vein on Draco’s left temple bulged out as he spat his insults, before he could draw a breath to speak his next words Kurt and Hermione had their wands pointed at him. Crabbe and Goyle pulled out their wands as well but even they knew that together they couldn’t inflict as much damage as either Kurt or Hermione.

“He’s not worth it,” Ron and Harry pulled the angry pair back, toward the stairs that descended to Hagrid’s hut.

All parties lowered their wands but Draco was first to speak, “Run, cowards.”

Kurt flipped him a bird but Hermione, beautiful Hermione, turned back and punched him square on the nose; Draco squealed loudly and his two lackeys moved toward Hermione but Kurt sent them flying back with a flick of his wand and a whispered incantation.

“I’m a little turned on,” Kurt whispered as he high fived his best friend.

Hermione gave a small bow before leaning in close to where Draco was rolling on the ground in agony, “Never question the courage of a Gryffindor.” She turned and led the way down the slope, “That felt good.”

“Good?” Ron chortled, “That was brilliant.”

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Harry clapped her encouragingly on the shoulder, “You just did what most of us have wanted to do since our first day at Hogwarts.”

“I did it last year,” Kurt pointed out to no avail.

“I have one question,” they all raised their brows, egging her on, “What is inside Kurt?”

There was raucous laughter for a moment before Kurt called for silence with a single raised finger, “I’m filled with the milk of human kindness.”

“I did not need to hear that,” Ron sulked.

Harry mirrored Ron’s disgusted facial expression, “I second that.”

“Get your minds out of the gutter,” Hermione rolled her, “It’s a Shakespeare reference.”

“Lady Macbeth says it in Scene five of Act one of the Scottish play,” Kurt continued.

“Is there a book you two haven’t read?” Harry furrowed his brow.

“We haven’t read the Scottish play, or at least I haven’t,” Kurt chortled, “we’re just cultured.” He turned and delivered three sharp wraps on the aged wooden door of Hagrid’s hut.

“I saw it on stage with my parents,” Hermione smiled at the two boys before turning to Kurt, “you and I have more to discuss on the new topic on the table.”

“That sounds like fun,” Kurt rolled his eyes, hoping he’d picked a more difficult milestone.

The door to Hagrid’s hut creaked on its hinges as he swung the heavy wooden slab; the large man did not look glad to see them but considering current circumstances Kurt suspected that even a pair of one of a kind, size twenty-three Hermès boating shoes wouldn’t turn that hairy frown upside down, “Oh, I thought I told you not to come down here.”

“As if we could stay away,” Hermione scolded, “even if just for the next few minutes.”

“I do hope those are rock cakes I smell in the oven,” Ron forced a smile.

Harry presented a deck of cards from one of the many pockets of his cargo pants, “Maybe a game of exploding snap might put you at ease.”

“Insert something nice here,” Kurt received a glare from all his friends, “I feel like my humour is wasted on you lot, like a metal spoon at a caviar bar I feel superfluous.” Kurt crossed his arms, “How’s about I’ll be mum and you can tell the jokes.”

The quartet pushed past Hagrid and into the hut; Harry and Hermione sat him down at the large kitchen table and dealt out a hand for exploding snap, they had rigged the deck so Hagrid would win and so there was no shuffling. Kurt and Ron got to work on a pot of tea in the interim, Ron boiled water while Kurt gathered crockery.

“Why don’t you just set him free?” Hermione finally asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence that only grew ever time Hagrid peered out of the window to where Buckbeak was tied up in his pumpkin patch.

“They’d know it was me,” Hagrid sighed deeply “and that would only make trouble for Professor Dumbledore.”

“And it would be big trouble,” Kurt shook his head as he placed mismatched mugs on a tray and began to look for a milk spout, “Mr Malfoy asked the Minister for Magic to be present for the execution.”

“How do you know that?” Ron quirked a quizzical brow, a sentiment echoed by all in the room.

“I overheard Draco mentioning it earlier,” Kurt shrugged, “Besides, Professor Dumbledore tells me everything.”

“’Everything’ sounds like a bit of an exaggeration,” Harry shook his head as he lost at the first hand of exploding snap.

Kurt held an oversized copper milk spout in one hand as he turned to face the dark-haired boy with his other hand on his hip, “Don’t be jealous just because Professor Dumbledore views me as an intellectual equal and has deemed me sufficiently mature to understand the complexities of this crazy world we live in.”

“I’m sure that sounded like bullshit on your ears as well,” Hermione raised a quizzical brow.

“There ain’t no one who will know and understand all that Albus Dumbledore knows and understands,” Hagrid chortled as he won his second hand of exploding snap.

“Actually, that’s a dou-” Kurt’s train of thought on how that statement contained a double negative and as such became a positive was cut short by a soft scraping sound coming from inside the milk spout, Kurt peered inside and saw a ball of unkempt brown fur, “RAT!” Kurt let out a high pitched yelp and flung the metal jug into the open flame that was burning in the fireplace.

As soon as the metal hit the smouldering logs of firewood, out jumped the rat like a bat from hell, “Scabbers!” Cried Ron as his rat hit the table top, he turned to Kurt with flames in his eyes, “You almost killed Scabbers.”

“Excuse me for not being able to distinguish between any old rat and a kept rat,” Kurt scoffed with an indignant flip of his hair.

“Not this again,” Hagrid groaned, he got to his feet and turned to the pair angrily, “Now you two need to stop all this bickering or else-”

The large man’s lecture was interrupted by a clay pot filled with flour seemingly spontaneously breaking, all eyes fell on the pot.

“Ouch,” Harry cried as a petrified seed pod hit him on the back of the neck. Their collective curiosity as to the origin of the pods was stumped when they noticed the approaching party consisting of Professor Dumbledore, Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge and Ominous hooded man with a large scythe in hand.

“Um, you should all go,” Hagrid announced, pulling his kitchen utensils from their hands and handing them each a rock cake as he shoved them out the side door just before the knocking on the front door began.

The four teenagers kept low as they made their way through Hagrid’s pumpkin patch to hide behind a large pile of discarded gourds till all members of the Minister’s party were inside the hut and they were out of the line of sight. They took off up the slope but for a moment Hermione lingered, staring distantly into the Forbidden Forest as if taken by the trees; “Hermione,” Kurt pulled her by the sleeve, “not the time to observe nature.”

Kurt followed Ron and Harry up the slope with Hermione in tow, they were pleased to reach the top and find that Draco and company had received the message clearly and were nowhere to be seen. Their group could not see the execution from where they stood and for that Kurt was grateful; he had seen death come with a whisper and by force, neither was glorious to behold. The scythe came down with a resounding swoop, a flock of birds flew off and Buckbeak was dead.

Once again Kurt was reminded of how life and existence were more than their owner’s possessions, they belonged to those who observed said lives as well. The world did not discolour nor were there dramatic major chords filling the dark silence; the sounds of nature went on as beautifully and distant as before, only those who knew were aware of the innocent life that was now lost. Nature did not weep for the loss.

“Ouch,” Ron gasped as he dropped Scabbers and pulled his finger to his lips, “he bit me.”

“Don’t suck on it,” Kurt scolded, life went on, “Who knows how filthy that wound is.”

Ron did not take his warning and instead ran after his retreating pet, crying out for the rat to come back to him but to no avail. Harry, Hermione and Kurt followed Ron as he chased Scabbers down the slope and around the castle but all stopped dead as Ron caught the rat and came to rest under the shadow of the whomping willow.

“You do realise what tree that is,” Hermione whispered as if the tree might hear them.

“Ron!” Harry exclaimed.

Ron’s face drained of colour and he pointed a long slender finger in their direction, “Kurt, Hermione, Harry! Behind you! It’s the Grimm.”

The three turned to see a large black dog of no discernible breed as dark as shadows standing above them, none moved out of fear that any sudden movement might startle the beast and cause it to attack. For a moment nature seemed to obey emotion and time stood still but the beast did not; it charged in their direction and just within reach leapt over their heads towards Ron.

Harry and Hermione followed the beast whilst Kurt took a millisecond to retrieve his wand and a handkerchief on which to place his Burkin, within a heartbeat he followed his friends into harm’s way. Kurt tried to stun the large dog but it moved too quickly and running impaired his aim; he was too distracted by the violently thrashing branches of the whomping willow which appeared to have every intention of ending him. Kurt watched as the beast pounced and grabbed Ron by the arm, it dragged a screaming Ron into a small hutch at the base of the whomping willow. Ron’s foot caught in the entryway as the rest of him disappeared into the darkness, Kurt charged to try and pull him back but he was stopped dead in his tracks by the blood curdling crunch of breaking bone as the last of Ron disappeared.

Kurt stood watching the empty darkness for a moment too long before being woken to reality by a branch of the whomping willow catching him by the ankle and swinging him high into the air. Kurt noted that Hermione and Harry were in similar predicaments, “ _Incendio_.” Flames shot out of Kurt’s wand and right hand but the tree only held on more tightly and thrashed more violently, “Bad idea, _restinguo_.” The flow of the flames was reversed and they were back at square one.

Suddenly the willow went dead still and dropped the three dizzy teens, at the base of the willow with his paw in a knot in the bark was Crookshanks. Harry and Hermione recovered quickly but Kurt took a moment to himself to empty the contents of his stomach before picking up his bag and taking a mint.

“After you,” Kurt gestured into the hutch and in jumped Hermione, “Before you.” He stopped Harry. Choosing for himself the safest spot, “ _Lumos_.”

And his wand lit the tunnel, there didn’t appear to be any visible support but the tunnel seemed to stay up none the less; Kurt assumed it to be magic of sorts. The tunnel was narrow and stood maybe a head taller than Kurt, forcing them to walk single file, it went on almost endlessly for a good ten minutes before ending in a small climb out into a shabby looking room with worn wooden floors.

Hermione peered out of a crack in a boarded window and seemed to get an idea of where they were, “We’re in the shrieking shack,” Hermione spoke whilst Kurt pulled cobwebs from her hair, “Anthony and I once came to have a look but he was too afraid to come inside, what with it being the most haunted building in Britain.”

“And with good reason,” Kurt put his weight on a stare and it creaked terribly, “I doubt this place is structurally sound, I’m only here to get Ron.”

“Then you’re going to hate that the tracks go up the stairs,” Harry half whispered.

“If it wasn’t for that stupid rat,” Kurt grumbled as he climbed the stairs, they creaked and moaned but each stayed perfectly in place, “I wish he’d died in that damned fire place, terrible way to go but better him than me when this dump comes down.”

“You knows dogs have excellent hearing and that…” Hermione shuddered at the thought of the giant dog, probably remembering the crunch of Ron’s breaking bones, “thing can probably hear all of your bitching, right?”

“It can hear us coming either way with this house shrieking with every step,” Kurt spoke patronisingly, “it really earns its name.”

At the top of the stairs was a landing with four doors, each closed but only one had a fresh trail of blood leading into it. They approached cautiously, opening the door and jumping into the room with wands at the ready but there was nobody but Ron lying on a broken four-poster bed not unlike the one in Kurt’s bedroom back home.

They all ran up to Ron; Harry and Hermione hugged him while Kurt checked his leg, both bones were broken with one piercing the skin. Kurt didn’t have phoenix tears to solve this like the time when Harry broke his leg in the chamber of secrets but at least between the three of them they might be able to carry him to Madam Pomphry.

“Guys, it’s not the Grimm,” Ron protested as they tried to soothe and calm him, “it’s Sirius Black, he’s an animagus.”

Kurt’s blood ran cold as the door slowly creaked closed, revealing the tall, lithe, scraggly man from the wanted posters. Kurt had his wand pointed at Sirius Black when the door swung open again and Professor Lupin appeared and disarmed him. Now Kurt’s blood began to boil as the two men hugged.

“Sirius Black,” Professor Lupin smiled, “finally the exterior reflects the madness within.”

“You’d know all about the madness within Remus, old friend,” Sirius Black gave a smile filled with brown rotted teeth, “I finally found him and now we kill him.”

“Yes but wait,” Professor Lupin nodded, holding up a cautioning hand.

“I did my waiting,” Sirius shrieked angrily, “twelve years of it in Azkaban.”

“They deserve to know why,” Remus countered.

Harry let out a frustrated growl as Kurt clicked his knuckles, his patience wearing thin, “I know why, you sold out my parents! You were their friend and you betrayed them and now you’ve come to finish the job.”

“Wait just a minute,” Professor Lupin pleaded but Kurt’s patience was long gone.

“There will be no more waiting for either of you,” Kurt whispered, and he pounced. Kurt managed to tackle Professor Lupin to the ground and straddle the man’s chest in one swift movement, he leaned in close to the man’s face as he wrapped his slender fingers around the man’s throat, “Remus ‘same name twice’ Lupin, I cautioned them not to trust you, that it would ultimately lead to our doom but here we are and I am having none of it.” There was a faint sizzling sound when Sirius Black tried to grab him and the smell of burning flesh followed, “First you tried to give me a ‘B’ but I draw the line at killing my friends, time to meet your maker.”

Kurt started to squeeze the life from the man but Hermione cut through his rage, “Kurt, rules and authority have their place. If you kill him you’ll be undercutting the bureaucracy of the justice system, let him go.”

Kurt’s hands loosened and he cursed himself for being a slave to the system, “He trusted you.” Kurt spoke as he got to his feet and straightened himself up, “I told him not to trust you.”

“All this time you were his friend,” Hermione shook her head as she pulled Kurt away from Professor Lupin whose breaths were still shaky and his skin marked with hand shaped burns, “He’s a werewolf.”

“I’m not fond of any form of prejudice because I know it’s a handful of bad seeds like you that give the whole lot a bad name,” Kurt spat, lunging in Professor Lupin’s direction but Hermione catching him.

Professor Lupin did not flinch at Kurt’s accusations or his threat of physical harm but rather raised a quizzical brow, “How long have you two known?”

“Since Professor Snape set the essay,” Hermione shook her head in disbelief.

“The essay you didn’t grade,” Kurt added angrily, “It wasn’t in writing it but in reading it over and over trying to figure out what grade it deserved that the truth made itself abundantly clear.”

“And we kept your secret,” Hermione’s whole body was shaking now, “thinking you were one of the good guys.”

“Kurt was right about you,” Professor Lupin smiled at Hermione and Kurt stepped between the pair, “You truly are the brightest which of your age.”

“Of _the_ age,” Kurt corrected.

“And well, as for you…” Professor Lupin gestured to the heat lesions on his neck, “the most powerful wizard of your age indeed.”

Kurt did not let his face light up at the complement, “it comes from a place of hate and anger.”

“Well isn’t that lovely and oddly familiar,” Sirius slowly clapped his hands, “but I’d like to commit the murder I went to Azkaban for some time today.”

“The only person dying today will be you,” Professor Snape drew out the words with an unusual undertone of glee in his voice as he entered the room with his wand pointed at Sirius Black, “And as for the friend whose been helping you in and out of the castle…” Professor Snape pointed his wand at Professor Lupin for a moment before doubling back, “His day will come and it will be just as sweet.”

“Snape-” Professor Lupin began but Professor Snape cut him off.

“Silence,” Professor Snape’s words were cold and precise, “save your pleas for the Wizengamot, you might earn their mercy because mine isn’t on offer.”

“Ten points to Slytherin,” slipped out as whisper from Hermione’s lips.

“Once again Snivilus, you have put your penetrative mind to the task and come to the wrong conclusion,” Sirius cackled as Professor Snape paled, “why don’t you run off and play with your chemistry set?”

“Oh, don’t tempt to steal the dementors’ joy,” Professor Snape sighed disinterestedly, “they’ve been so looking forward to reconciling with you and giving you a kiss.” It was Sirius’s turn to pale, “Not so brave anymore.”

“What did you mean by ‘the murder you went to Azkaban for’?” Kurt picked up his wand as he spoke.

“I’m talking about Pettigrew,” Sirius hissed.

“I won’t have a peep from you four,” Professor Snape scolded, “You’re in enough trouble as it is. And I told you to shut your trap, mutt.”

“For being kidnapped?” Ron squealed.

“For what you did to Mr Malfoy’s face,” The potions master replied.

“Oh, well,” Ron let out a sigh of relief, “that was Hermione.”

“Thanks a lot Ron,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

Harry moved swiftly and nearly silently aside from the whispered incantation, “Petrificus totalus.” Professor Snape’s body went rigid and he fell over like a log, “tell me about Pettigrew.”

“Um, can we talk about the elephant in the room first,” Hermione turned to Harry angrily, “Why do you people keep attacking teachers?”

“Hey, in my defence, I attacked a traitorous bastard and he was lucky to get away with his life,” Kurt fixed an imaginary stray hair before crossing his arms irately.

“We’ll discuss your murderous tendencies later,” Harry dismissed both Kurt and Hermione, “Kurt’s observation was spot on, why would he mention Pettigrew’s murder in the future tense? Pettigrew is dead.”

“Firstly and most obviously, my observations are always spot on,” Kurt smiled both at the earlier and current compliments simultaneously, grateful for the release, “Secondly, I’d like to let you all know that I’m not murderous. Thirdly,” Kurt pointed at Sirius Black, “Crazy mass murderer, lying and nonsensical outbursts are a given.”

“I ask because I saw Pettigrew on the Marauders’ Map,” Harry pleaded, almost begging Kurt to allow him to get closure.

“The ‘Marauders’ are not licenced distributers and never have been,” Kurt groaned, “their merchandise can’t be trusted, didn’t you once claim to see multiple Kurts on it?”

Harry swallowed a lump of defeat but Sirius spoke up in his place, “As Marauders, Remus and I take offense to that.” He turned to Harry, “And so would your father.”

“My father?” Harry’s face lit up at the mention of his father.

“The only Marauder glad to hear the dismissal of this evidence is the misfit,” Sirius sneered, pointing a finger at Kurt who had put himself between all his friends and the crazies.

“I’m Kurt Elizabeth motherfucking Hummel,” Kurt sneered, “Peter Pettigrew is dead; he was awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class for confronting you. It was given to his mother along with his right index finger, all that was left of him after you’d seen to him; I read. Remind me to bring up how Cornelius Fudge denigrated the Order of Merlin by awarding it to himself for resolving the Chamber of Secrets debacle; I feel like Harry and I did that, mostly me, but it should be something we discuss at some point.”

“I mean the rat, Beautiful,” Kurt didn’t know whether to be flattered by the compliment or insulted by the how the man was undermining his intelligence, “I’d know that rat anywhere, I was there when we taught the traitor to be an animagus.”

“Do you think we’re stupid,” Hermione scoffed, “Pettigrew barely passed transfiguration, we’ve seen his file and there is no way he could have mastered the complex art of becoming an animagus. Besides, he isn’t on the registry.”

“I didn’t say it was easy to teach him, I just said we did it,” Sirius countered, “besides, I wasn’t on your little registry and neither was James.”

“Stop trying to bait Harry by using his father,” Kurt scolded, “It’s classless.”

“Oh, how familiar your crazy is,” Sirius sneered, “reminds me of my mother.”

“I get that all the time,” Kurt countered.

“How long has that rat been in your family?” Professor Lupin asked as he moved closer to Ron.

“The flames burn so much hotter out my wand,” Kurt warned, causing the man to back away.

“Twelve years,” Ron answered cautiously, soothing Scabbers who was trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

“Abnormally long life for a rat,” Professor Lupin offered with a shrug, keeping his distance as the evidence from his last encounter with Kurt was still fading.

“We were planning on donating him to science,” Hermione countered.

“Come here Pettigrew,” Sirius growled as the rat broke free and made a beeline for the door, piquing Kurt’s curiosity. Before Kurt could move Professor Lupin silently cast a spell that caused the Rat to transform into a dishevelled man who looked like he’d once been particularly plump just before he could sneak out through a hole in the wall.

Kurt turned to Ron, “You used let that man sit in your lap.” That was Kurt’s initial reaction, “and you used to let him sleep in your bed.” Kurt began to laugh manically, “and you used to bathe him, now who has an inappropriate relationship with an age inappropriate male?”

“Fuck you,” Ron huffed, crossing his arms.

“Really Kurt,” Harry and Hermione chorused in disapproval.

“I can’t help it,” Kurt giggled despite his efforts to suppress the reaction, “this moment is just too good to let go.”

“You thought we’d never find you, didn’t you Wormtail?” Sirius spat at the balding man; Kurt felt bad for Ron when he considered the amount of the unattractive man’s body he had touched, Kurt wouldn’t wish that on his enemy let alone one of his closest friends.

“Remus, Sirius,” Peter Pettigrew gave a smile filled with yellow teeth, the smile reminded Kurt too much of Scabbers to bare, “Feels like it’s been forever.”

“Why’d you do it?” Professor Lupin demanded, holding his wand to Pettigrew’s neck, “Why’d you sell Lily and James out?”

“We told them to switch secret keepers because we thought you’d be loyal,” Sirius scolded, “But you weren’t and then you let me take the fall, heck, you framed me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Peter Pettigrew whined, “the Dark Lord can be very persuasive. He said he’d Kill me, what would you have done?”

“Died,” all the Gryffindor’s chorused, all his friends turned to him.

Kurt shrugged, “I would have acted on my ‘murderous tendencies’, I love me way too much to die.”

“I worry about you sometimes,” Harry shrugged, “What’s a ‘secret keeper’?”

“It’s the enactor of the fidelius charm,” Hermione whispered, “they ensure the concealment of a location and its contents so that nobody can find a location unless they are told by the secret keeper, even if somebody stumbles on the location or its contents by chance they won’t recognise them for what they are.”

“When your parents went into hiding-” Sirius began but Kurt raised a silencing hand, “What did I say?”

“I’m not baiting him,” Sirius Black whined defensively, Kurt gave a disinterested wag of his finger and Sirius Black relented, “He’s the one who betrayed your parents.”

“If he’s truly responsible for my parent’s death then I propose bringing him before the mercy of the justice system,” Harry declared.

“I’ve finally managed to teach him to respect rules and authority,” Kurt wiped away an imaginary tear.

“Thank you Harry,” Peter Pettigrew grovelled, “you’re as Kind as Lily was.”

“Don’t you dare mention her to Harry,” Hermione cautioned the man, “because of you Harry grew up without his parents.”

“Scabbers is a middle aged man,” Ron mumbled, staring off into space, not caring about the moment.

“I didn’t do it for you,” Harry spat at Peter Pettigrew, “If I’ve learnt anything from Hermione, it’s that friends don’t let their friends become murderers.” Harry placed an apologetic hand on Kurt’s shoulder, “No matter how much better it makes them feel. My dad wouldn’t want two more of his friends to become murderers.”

“The legend is as true as the boy himself,” Peter Pettigrew tried his hand at flattery, “but your kindness was gravely underestimated.”

“I hear the Dementor’s Kiss is the most painful punishment in existence,” Harry whispered back.

“I taught him that too,” Kurt clapped his hands gleefully. The group decided to make their way back to the Castle and hopefully catch Cornelius Fudge still on the grounds; they would clear Sirius’s name and see Peter Pettigrew punished for his crimes. Professor Snape was left bound and petrified to mull over these new details and cool down, hopeful, as a result of an almost unanimous vote; Kurt wanted his house master freed but due to the popularity of the wrong decision his will was not done, pleasures of democracy. Ron was carried through the tunnel balanced between shoulders of Professor Lupin and Sirius Black, Kurt had pointed out that Professor Snape hadn’t needed help carrying Ron the last time he was injured; this didn’t sit well with his audience.

When they emerged from the tunnel under the whomping willow, Crookshanks was ready to step on the knot that immobilised the dangerous tree. The sky was beginning to darken and the constant chill that had fallen over Hogwarts since the arrival of the dementors was particularly biting this evening for this late in spring, when one considered that term was almost over the weather was definitely off. Kurt had opened his bag and offered protein bars to his friends, he wasn’t sure if they’d make dinner and he didn’t want anyone too faint to testify. Harry and Sirius sat off to one side and Kurt, Hermione and Professor Lupin kept an eye on Peter Pettigrew while Ron grumbled about the pain in his leg.

Just when all seemed to have plateaued, Kurt wasn’t surprised when it was all turned on its head; it was sufficiently late for the moon to rise and Professor Lupin began to violently transform under the radiation of the ‘full moon’. Kurt supressed his inner urge to point out that full moon lasted for a few seconds; it had no value in the current situation as lycanthropy virus merely required between ninety percent waning gibbous and ninety percent waxing gibbous, pointing it out wouldn’t stop the transformation.

“Kurt,” Hermione whispered to him, “I think you should run, he might hold residual anger toward you for trying to kill him.”

“I’m ready,” Kurt countered, he carried on the conversation to distract his friends from Professor Lupin’s muffled screams of pain as he bit into his forearm and Sirius Black’s pleas with the man to stay true to his heart, “I’ve been preparing for this moment for a while and I won’t leave you, you’re my people and I could never leave you to face danger alone. Finding new people would be too much admin.”

“Is that what you meant by ‘I’m preparing’?” Harry’s imitation of him wasn’t very good.

“You should consult Ron on your imitation,” Kurt said as they braced themselves, “he’s miles better at it, Hermione is too far out of your league.”

They eventually forced to come back to reality when the large wolf like creature shook off Sirius Black like a rag doll and came directly toward Kurt. Kurt simply pointed his wand in the direction of the large beast, he completed his complicated wand movements before reciting his incantations, “ _Obrigescunt in infinitum_.”

Professor Lupin was petrified and Kurt smiled, Hermione stepped forward and began to speak in a soothing voice, “Professor, its Hermione, please don’t attack us. Our differences were the result of a misunderstanding.”

The wolf began to vibrate and his jaw began to snap a full set of angry teeth as he regained his ability to move, “Kurt grabbed Hermione and Harr as he began to run, “I’m apparently not as good at casting advanced dark spells as I thought, so much for the petrification charm.”

“And people thought you were petrifying muggleborns for fun last year,” Harry chuckled nervously.

Professor Snape emerged from the tunnel under the whomping willow with fire in his eyes and eyes only for Harry, “You insolent fool, you are too much like your arrogant fool of a father.” Professor Snape held his wand to Harry’s neck, “He too was drawn to Sirius Black like a moth to a flame, maybe I should let you get close enough to get burned as well.” Professor Snape’s smile fell when Professor Lupin howled loudly; he spun on his heels, placing himself between the teenagers and the werewolf, “The fool didn’t take his potion.”

Professor Lupin was charging straight at them when Professor Snape sent him flying back with a flick of his wand. This did not remedy the situation and instead angered the werewolf, it was only when Sirius Black, in his animagus form, attacked him in their defence from behind that the scales turned in their favour. The match between the large black dog and Professor Lupin’s sandy werewolf form was not an even one but there was nothing they could do without risking the wellbeing of their hero; Sirius Black was soon on the back foot as they progressed further down the slope toward the lake, just when all hope seemed futile and their saviour was on his last legs there came a howl from deep in the forbidden forest and one from across the lake and another in a far off indistinct location. Professor Lupin lost interest in a severely injured Sirius Black and chose to focus his attention on figuring out which howl to follow.

Harry, Hermione and Kurt got to the lake shore to Sirius Black, reverted to his human form, lying in a weakened state; it was late and a chill had creeped over the lake, an unnatural chill which alarmed Kurt, “I think we might have to run.”

“We can’t carry a grown man,” Hermione countered.

Kurt rolled his eyes as the temperature plummeted and the sky darkened, “then either we leave him here or die with him.”

“He’s my God Father, my dad’s best friend,” Harry argued hugging the unconscious man, “I can’t leave him! I won’t leave him.”

“Then get up and fight for his life,” Kurt pointed to the sky where hords of dementors were descending on them.

“What do we do?” Harry half sobbed.

“You need to cast the Patronus or we’ll die here,” Hermione’s voice was small and pleading, “only you can do it.”

“I can’t think happy thoughts right now,” Harry sniffed loudly, his voice barely a shaky whisper, “I’m too cold.”

“Well,” Kurt put his bag on the ground, “everything burns at some temperature, and hopefully the same can be said for dementors.”

“What are you going to do?” Hermione whispered between chattering teeth.

“I’m gonna set this night on fire,” Kurt smiled, “ _ignis_.” Kurt’s hands were engulfed in warmth as flames spread over his fingers, “Get down and get those happy thoughts ready because there is only so much I can do, “ _turbine sphaeram_.” A great dome of flames exploded outward and surrounded them, creating a barrier between them and the dementors but it did not do much to deter the effect of the dementors, only preventing them from coming close enough to perform the kiss.

Harry got to his feet, he shakily got into a firm stance and pointed his wand upward, “Expecto Patronum.” A swirling vortex of white light shot out of his wand seemed to offer some deterrent to the effects of the dementors.

Hermione mirrored him, the effects were not as impressive but Kurt was glad for her efforts; this was a life or death situation and they needed to give it all they had, he still had more to give, “ _Aro_.” The flames around them turned blue and their intensity was amplified; the dementors backed off for a moment but soon they came closer once more, hungry for their happiness. Kurt felt himself getting feint from over exertion and the dementors’ proximity; the world, the red and blue flames began to spin faster. The cold crept back into Kurt’s fingers, then the stillness of unconsciousness was all that remained and the steady monotonous beep filled Kurt’s ears.


	13. Chapter 13

“As I told you before Professor Dumbledore,” The potions master’s monotonous hissing cut through Hermione’s unconsciousness, “Somebody, I don’t know who, but somebody conjured not one but two corporeal Patronus that sent off the dementors.”

“This is neither the time nor the place Severus,” Professor Dumbledore raised a dismissive hand, “this conversation is no longer private, wait in my office and we’ll have word when I’m done here.”

“There is an extremely powerful wizard skulking about the grounds and you think we should wait?” Professor Snape’s voice was beyond condescending, “The damage they caused to the school grounds with that fire not aside, I do not believe it wise to wait for Sirius Black’s ally to strike again.”

“As I’ve said before Severus,” the headmaster remained calm, “we’ll discuss this later. Right now, I have four teenagers pretending to be asleep that require my attention.”

Professor Snape huffed angrily before turning on his heels to leave and shutting the doors behind him. Hermione immediately shot up in to sitting position and turned to face the headmaster in her hospital bed, “Professor Dumbledore, Sirius Black is innocent.”

“Is that so Ms Granger?” The elder man gave her a penetrative stare.

“It was Scabbers,” Ron nodded his head aggressively as he spoke, “he was secretly a middle aged man that Sirius Black taught to be an animagus.”

“Peter Pettigrew,” Was all Kurt added, but Hermione could see his mind hard at work. Hermione gaped as the slender boy pulled out a cigarette from his bottomless handbag, lit it and took a long drag; all in the presence of a member of staff.

“He betrayed my parents and killed those muggle,” Harry spoke sullenly, “he faked his death and framed Sirius.”

Hermione raised an interjectory finger before Professor Dumbledore could ask his next question, “Since when does Kurt smoke?”

“I don’t generally, the pack was a Christmas gift from ‘Pa,” Kurt took a long dramatic drag, “I thought it was a dramatic way of showing everyone how stressed I am.”

“And why are you stressed?” Hermione raised a confused brow, Kurt was usually calm in most situations unless there was something he didn’t understand; everything was at face value at this point, there was nothing to misunderstand.

“You know contrary to popular belief, I have a soul too and I almost lost it today,” Kurt took another long drag; allowing them to mull over what he said, Hermione rolled her eyes at his dramatic antics, “If Professor Dumbledore doesn’t know that Sirius is innocent then clearly he isn’t aware that Peter Pettigrew is alive. Which begs the question, what happened to Pettigrew?”

The cogs in Hermione’s head clicked into place, “Firstly, love what you’re doing with the cigarette.” Kurt gave her a small smile as he put out the stump, “secondly, that is a very good question, does anyone know what happened to Pettigrew?”

“Well,” Ron scoffed, “When you all abandoned me even though I couldn’t run for my life from werewolf Lupin, I saw.” All eyes turned to Ron, whose leg was in a cast in a sling, “he used the commotion caused by Professor Lupin’s transformation to change back into a rat and scuttle off to god knows where.”

“We didn’t leave you alone,” Kurt shook his head in disbelief, “we left you with Professor Snape.”

“I’d have been better off alone,” Ron chortled.

“Hey,” Kurt scolded, “that’s the second time Professor Snape has ensured that you received the medical attention you required, give him some slack.” Kurt then turned to Professor Dumbledore with an accusatory glare, “That’s also the third time a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher has put the lives of students in direct danger.”

“Wow,” Hermione was floored by how brutally honest Kurt was being, “nearly dying makes you really bitchy.”

“The dementor nearly sucked out his soul,” Harry pointed out, “he has every right to be bitchy.”

“And if what you’ve told me is correct,” Professor Dumbledore looked them all in the eye as he spoke, “and I’m sure it is, an innocent man will suffer a worse fate within the hour.”

“Surely there’s something to be done,” Hermione wracked her brain, “You have six witnesses to testify to the truth.”

“Professor Snape isn’t Sirius’s biggest fan,” Harry pointed out, “there’s no love lost between them, we can’t rely on him.”

Five, Hermione counted down, “Professor Lupin is a werewolf and in the eyes of the ministry cannot be trusted.” Kurt spoke between mouthfuls of chocolate, “he and Sirius are also besties and as such his testimony isn’t reliable.”

“Ron’s off his rocker from shock,” she admitted to herself, “which leaves the three of us.”

“With the rumours that he’s my father, people will think my testimony is fabricated,” Kurt added, “it’ll seem like I’m trying to get my father off.”

“And I doubt the word of three teenagers would have convinced the ministry anyway,” Professor Dumbledore admitted, the clock tower chimed in the distance and suddenly his gaze fell on Hermione, giving her a sharp look. The headmaster’s gaze shifted from Hermione to Kurt and back again, this went on for a minute, “Funny thing time. Although linear in nature, with the right tools one can forge it into many a beautiful shape.”

“No,” Kurt said sharply and she agreed, what Professor Dumbledore was suggesting was reckless but she feared it necessary, “do you know how many rules we’d be breaking.”

“Do you know who creates and enforces the rules?” Professor Dumbledore countered, “But I must warn you not to be seen or you might fail and more than one innocent life is at stake. A visit to Professor Flitwick’s office in the west tower will be in order,” Professor Dumbledore turned to leave, “I’ll see to it that you aren’t disturbed, but be sure to be back before last chime; just for dramatic effect.”

When the headmaster was gone there was a lingering silence as Kurt and Hermione looked at each other and tried to decide whether or not to do what Professor Dumbledore expected them to do. The silence was broken by Harry; who, as would be expected, was confused and Ron echoed his sentiments, “What was that all about?”

Kurt let out a defeated sigh, “fine, let’s do it.”

Kurt gestured for her to explain, “You know how we seem to be taking every subject on offer for third year students at Hogwarts?” Harry and Ron both nodded, “that’s because we are, we’ve been using time turners to go back in time and attend more classes at the same time; it’s a privilege for the cream of the crop.”

“You’ve been travelling back in time?” Ron gave them a look of disbelief, “using what?”

Hermione and Kurt pulled out their time turners from under their sweaters, “time turners.” Kurt spoke condescendingly, “don’t you read?”

“I thought those were best friend charms or something,” Ron countered.

“Padma Petil has one,” Hermione said, as if it were the most obvious thing on the planet, “I’m not even sure if we like her.”

“I think we’re mostly jealous of how pretty and smart she is,” Kurt countered with some rigorous nodding, “otherwise, she is a lovely girl.”

“I really hope she and Finn become a thing before they both give up on their feelings for each other,” Hermione added, nodding in time with Kurt.

“Wait a damn minute,” Harry pointed an accusatory finger at Kurt, putting an end to their synchronised nodding, “attending multiple classes at once, which means that there was more than one Kurt in the castle at once.” Harry shot to his feet, “you made me think the Marauders’ Map was defective!”

“Calm down, it’s supposed to be a secret,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “you have no idea what we’re giving up by telling you this.”

Harry gave Kurt a momentary glare before turning to Hermione, “So, what’s the plan?”

“I think we should go back in time,” Hermione began.

“Did you figure that out all by yourself or did someone help you?” Ron tilted his head expectanly as he spoke, Kurt gave her tight lipped smile that encouraged her to ignore Ron.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “As I was saying, we start by saving Buckbeak; if we’re breaking the rules of time travel then we’re going all out.”

Kurt’s eyes went wide, “all out?” Kurt smiled as his mind worked at a mile a minute, “I’m going to use the bathroom, you go on without me and I’ll meet you at Hagrid’s.”

Hermione quirked a brow, “is this one of those ‘don’t question it moments’?”

“You get me,” Kurt smiled and disappeared.

“Ron,” Hermione smiled weakly, “because of your leg injury, we’re leaving you here.”

 “At least stop me from breaking my leg,” Ron shouted at them as Hermione swung the necklace over Harry’s shoulders, “Or give me the idea to ask Kurt for something to dull the pain, feeling murderers.”

“Pain Killers,” Harry corrected but they were already being shot through time.

When the room stopped spinning, the sun was up again and the hospital wing was empty, “We should head down to Hagrid’s, we’ll get our bearings after we meet up with Kurt.”

They took off at the human equivalent of light speed, for the non-athletic on Hermione’s side, down the stairs; careful not to be seen, “Where do you think Kurt went?” Harry asked, his voice so low Hermione almost didn’t hear him, “like I get that he went to the bathroom and all but where do you think he went?”

Hermione shrugged, “to be perfectly honest, Kurt goes where he pleases and does whatever he pleases without answering to anyone.” Hermione smiled at the idea of her friend, “he’s very closed off you know, keeps so much to himself but he hides it by throwing random titbits into conversation randomly. You could know every fact about Kurt Hummel but you’ll never understand the boy unless he tells you how each fact makes him feel and what it makes him think.”

“You know him,” Harry looked a little concerned, “that sounds like a lonely existence, it’d be nice to think he has you.”

 Hermione chuckled at Harry’s naïveté, “Kurt doesn’t feel undesirable emotions, loneliness is for ugly people and as such is unsuitable for Kurt Elizabeth Hummel; that’s what he tells himself.” Hermione pulled Harry up against the wall just before they exited the castle and stumbled upon themselves, “Look it’s us.”

“Right,” Harry nodded as she gestured for him to keep low and follow her out an open window into some shrubbery that would hide them more effectively than any attempt to flatten themselves into the wall, “This is the part where you punch Malfoy, we should have bought a camera and filmed it.”

“I’ll do it again some other time and you can photograph that,” Hermione smiled at him over her shoulder before turning back to watch herself punching Draco Malfoy; it wasn’t as satisfying to watch as it was to do but it was still bloody great.

“Good punch,” Harry clapped her on the shoulder encouragingly.

“Thanks,” she watched as first their quartet left then Draco and company picked themselves up, “let’s go before somebody else comes along.”

Hermione and Harry scurried down the slope, trying not to be seen. When they reached the bottom they hid behind the pile of pumpkins they would hide behind after fleeing the hut, Harry seemed antsy, “We should set Buckbeak free now.”

A pale slender hand reached out from nowhere and grabbed Harry by the forearm, “the minister for magic needs to see him before we set him free or else he’ll simply think he’s been had, remember how we’re not reliable witnesses and as such can’t offer Hagrid an alibi?”

“You just showed up out of nowhere and nearly gave me a heart attack,” Hermione scolded.

“We had plans to meet here,” Kurt shrugged.

“Look, Pettigrew is in that milk spout,” Harry pointed in through the window to where Kurt was holding the copper jug whilst lecturing the room on his relationship with Dumbledore, “Let’s get him now.”

“No,” Hermione and Kurt chorused as they held him in place.

“Ever hear of an ontological paradox?” Kurt asked with an overly dramatized eye roll.

“No,” Harry shook his head, “I have friends.”

“Don’t get fresh with me,” Kurt scolded, “We have the same friends.”

“Guys,” Hermione snapped her fingers angrily, “not the time or the place. It’s honestly like being with Kurt and Ron.” Hermione glanced over both their heads, “Here comes Fudge,” she turned her head to the hut’s side door but nothing happened, “why aren’t we leaving?”

“The clay pot hasn’t broken,” Kurt pointed out, “where are the petrified seed pods?”

“Like the ones we’re standing in?” Harry asked with a subtly quirked brow.

“Exactly,” Hermione bent down and picked up a handful; she threw the first and hit the clay pot, she threw another and it hit Harry on the back of the neck, “sorry.”

“That’s what that was,” Harry chuckled, “that really hurt you know; but that is quite the arm, have you ever considered playing quidditch?”

“We’re coming,” Kurt hissed as he pulled his Hermione and Harry into the forbidden forest without negotiation

“Not even once,” Hermione laughed at the idea of her on a broomstick for longer than absolutely necessary, “I hate flying.”

“Our loss,” Harry shrugged, past Hermione looked back and almost directly at them for a moment before being pulled away by future Kurt. Soon as they were gone, the three time travellers shot out of the trees to free Buckbeak; they knew they were out of the line of sight of their past selves as they hadn’t seen the execution. Harry bowed to Buckbeak and the hippogriff bowed back, Harry then unhooked the hippogriff’s chain from the scare crow’s post; Hermione and Kurt were keeping watch, one was watching the path from the castle whilst the other watched the hut for movement.

“They’re getting up,” Hermione warned with a sense of urgency.

Harry let out a defeated sigh, “he won’t budge.”

“Let me try,” Kurt took the chain from Harry, bowed and looked the hippogriff dead in the eye with a gaze colder than ice, “up.” Kurt’s voice was firm and intimidating but he had little effect on the stubborn hippogriff, “don’t make me tell you again.”

The hippogriff got to his feet but Fudge’s party was already at the door, “this is taking too long.”

Hermione glanced around the clearing for something that might help but seemed to be coming short, till she spotted the dead ferrets, much like the ones Hagrid had on the day of their first lesson. She picked them up and waved them in front of Buckbeak’s beak just as Kurt was explaining who was helping whom in this situation; which, though a valid argument, wasn’t helping them, “Come get the nice dead ferret.”

Buckbeak followed Hermione as she lured him with the dead ferrets like a carrot on a stick, as soon as they’d disappeared into the safety of the forbidden forest she let Buckbeak have the ferrets; it was truly disturbing to watch him swallow them whole.

“We have a good while before our next meeting,” Kurt pointed out, “who is interested in a Celine Dion sing along?”

“What do you mean a good while?” Harry look scandalised, “when are we getting Pettigrew?”

“Right,” Hermione settled down on a rock for one of Kurt’s lectures, “Do you remember how the situation at Hagrid’s played out?” Harry nodded, “Did you see how everything seemingly played out the same? Our past selves think Buckbeak’s dead and Hagrid isn’t in trouble for setting him free?”

“It was literally two minutes ago, not a lifetime ago,” Harry gave Kurt a patronising glare, “even my memory isn’t bad enough to have forgotten.”

“I offered to sing Celine Dion but you needed a lecture,” Kurt returned the gaze with a steely one of his own, Hermione was almost certain that Kurt’s gaze was the cause of the cold breeze that rolled through the forest, “take what I give and be grateful.”

Harry rolled his eyes and shrugged, Hermione shoes to intervene, “you could give without being a bitch about it.”

“There’s somebody out there casting two corporeal patronuses… patronii? I’m not sure what the plural is,” Kurt shrugged, “anyway, at once and I can’t even cast a non-corporeal one. I don’t think I could possibly do anything without being bitchy.”

“It was my dad,” Harry admitted sullenly.

Kurt did a double take and quirked a brow, before he could say something potentially hurtful Hermione spoke first, “But, Harry, your father’s…”

“Dead, I know,” Hermione hated that she couldn’t say it and that Harry had to say the word for her, maybe she should have let Kurt do this after all, “but I’m just telling you what I saw.”

“Then what makes you think your dead father is casting patronuses?” Kurt tilted his head curiously.

“He’s Prongs,” Harry explained, “his Patronus was a stag, Professor Lupin told me, and both patronuses were stags.”

For a moment Hermione saw guilt on Kurt’s face, he was hiding something and what was worse was that it was something that made him feel remorseful; the poor people’s emotion.

“Honey,” Kurt took a deep breath and let out a dejected sigh, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “I don’t think it’s wise to go down this road, it only ends in pain.”

“Drop it, I know what I saw,” Harry snapped and Kurt recoiled as if bitten before turning cold, “tell me why we can’t go after Pettigrew.”

“Because if we do it before the shrieking shack we won’t find out that Sirius is innocent and as such won’t have a reason to come back in time,” Kurt’s words were void of emotion, “it’s one of the time travel paradoxes that come into play when one deals with themselves in time travel.”

Kurt sat down on one side of her and began to dig in his purse, he put a cigarette to his lips and lit it with a finger; he’d gone from a non-smoker to a chain smoker in next to no time. It seemed Harry wanted to be alone with his thoughts, so she sat beside Kurt.

“I don’t think Sirius Black is my father,” Kurt said abruptly.

“That’s not what’s bothering you but let’s go with that,” Hermione curled up close and laid her head on Kurt’s shoulder, “I don’t think he’s your father either.”

“He looked far too homeless for my liking,” Kurt shook his head as if assuring himself of his dismissal of the man as his father.

Hermione giggled, He kind of has been homeless for the last year.”

“That’s no excuse,” Kurt grimaced, “You know that smoking doesn’t actually relieve stress, it has an irritant in it and it’s slowly killing you, if anything it elevates your stress but people tell themselves otherwise and so it works.”

“I’m sure I’m not the first person to tell you this,” Hermione grabbed Kurt by the cheek for a moment before he smacked her hand away, “but you’re not good at deflecting.”

“I don’t have to be,” Kurt took a long drag of his cigarette, “People never ask and so I never actually have to tell till I’m ready.”

“It has to do with Harry thinking that his father cast the Patronus,” Hermione gave Kurt a reassuring smile, “You know something that you can’t tell us and it’s eating at you.”

“We’ll discuss this later,” Kurt patted her, rather condescendingly, on the head, “the volatility of this situation doesn’t allow for this conversation to go on right now.” Hermione followed Kurt’s upward gaze to where Harry was hovering over them, “I’m sorry that I’m a bitch but you’re just going to have accept that about me.”

Harry smiled and took the space on Kurt’s other side, helping himself to the boy’s other shoulder, “So, if the wizarding world has access to time travel then why haven’t they ever used it to stop Voldemort? Save all the people he killed.”

“Because the results are unpredictable,” Kurt explain in a soothing voice, “time is linear and can be reshaped but it is elastic in nature; they were to neutralize Voldemort before he became a bad guy then somebody else would have taken his place as the dark lord.”

“Like Mr Malfoy?” Harry furrowed his brow, “I thought we weren’t afraid of him and his cheap extensions.”

Hermione straightened up and looked Harry dead in the eye, “Lord Voldemort had other more loyal servants who went to Azkaban because they wouldn’t deny him, people much scarier than Draco’s father who were turned docile by their subordination to Lord Voldemort.” Hermione shuddered, “there are people who came by affluence and respect more easily than Lord Voldemort who believed in blood supremacy just as much as he did, if not more.”

“People who would have spread terror through legitimate channels,” Kurt added, “we’d probably would have never been born or would be long dead. The backlash caused by the murder of a seemingly innocent child alone would be unsurmountable.”

There was a short silence, “on the lighter side of things, Sirius asked me to come stay with him when this is all through.”

“That sounds lovely,” Hermione’s heart was warmed by Harry finding a home to call his own, “you wouldn’t have to go back to those awful relatives of yours.”

“The Dursleys,” Kurt sneered, “you know, I know somebody who could have them erased from existence.”

“You do not,” Hermione countered, knowing Kurt was pulling her leg.

“I don’t,” Kurt admitted, “but I’m sure Sirius met a few in Azkaban.”

“I don’t think people get out of Azkaban very often,” Harry chuckled.

Kurt mulled it over for a moment before nodding, “I suppose they don’t.”

“I think we should get something in the country,” Harry diverted the conversation, “somewhere you can see the sky, I think he’d like that after all that time in prison.”

“So basically anywhere above ground,” Kurt gave a sideways smirk.

Hermione couldn’t help chuckling, “we made this person our friend.”

“You don’t want to live in the country,” Kurt shook his head, “finding a Niemen Marcus is near impossible.” Kurt’s mind went to work again, “You could live in Knightsbridge; with the amount of money Sirius is set to inherit from the Black dynasty, you could buy a place in the sky.”

“The Black dynasty?” Hermione quirked a brow, she wasn’t one for society pages.

“Sirius comes from The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black,” Kurt’s voice did this thing of going low like a whisper whenever he was teaching them something, “I asked Professor Dumbledore about them and then the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black wouldn’t stop talking about how great and wealthy the family was.”

Hermione gaped at the amount of information Kurt was able to keep in his head for a moment before realising how dark it had gotten, “What time is it? I think we’re supposed to be coming out of the tunnel under the whomping willow about now.”

“It’s after six,” Kurt confirmed shooting to his feet, “we’re late.” The three teen shot to their feet at speed and took of within the thicket of trees toward the edge of the forest nearest to the whomping willow, when they got there Professor Lupin was charging toward them in his werewolf form, “I’m going to need Hermione to howl for me.”

“Me?” Hermione was taken aback by the request.

“Just do it, okay,” Kurt demanded shaking her to emphasize the urgency. Hermione cup her mouth and let out a loud high pitched howl, “perfect.”

“And now he’s coming straight toward us,” Harry spoke in a panic stricken voice, though it was obvious that he’d made some attempt at supressing his anxiety about their predicament, “what do we now Kurt?”

“Run,” Kurt pointed in a general direction and they followed the instructions on blind faith.

“Isn’t this the direction of the lake?” Hermione slowed her running to a swift jog, “where our past selves are?”

“Wait for it,” Kurt stopped running completely and raised a finger.

“Wait for what?” Harry looked around them as the rustle of dead leaves and low hanging branches got louder, Professor Lupin was almost upon them but suddenly he stopped when a series of howls from many different directions called him away, “How did you know?”

“We were late,” Kurt shrugged, “I’m sure Finn, Ginny and Luna thought I was messing with them, they needed time to get back to their posts before howling.”

“You did that?” Hermione gaped at him, she didn’t understand how Kurt had managed it, “How?”

“You know how people never ask,” Kurt smiled devilishly, “they’ll do almost anything I say on blind faith.”

“You’re a genius,” Hermione heard herself declare.

“Just very self-absorbed,” Kurt giggled.

Harry smiled, “Now we go get Pettigrew.”

“No Harry,” Kurt laid a hand on the dark haired boy’s arm and his eyes filled with sorrow, “we can’t, I heard what Professor Trelawney said to you when she was in the beyond; I’m so sorry but we don’t catch Pettigrew, it would simply delay the inevitable.”

“Then how do we prove Sirius is innocent?” Harry choked back a sob.

“We don’t,” Kurt’s voice was barely a whisper, “but I will make sure he never goes back to Azkaban and the dementors never get within ten feet of him. Right now I need you, not your father, to make sure we don’t die on that lake.”

“Me?” Harry’s face was now streaked with tears, “How could I possible think happy thoughts right now?”

“Because you’ve had worse days,” Kurt smiled modestly, “and life just keeps getting better for you; you have friends and family, right now both need you.”

“Besides,” Hermione smiled, “you were the stag, at least one of the stags. I remember catching a moment of it at the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw match.”

The three of them took off at speed and came to rest on the bank opposite to Kurt’s dome of blue flames, which lit the vicinity like a midnight sun, just before it collapsed in on itself, Harry took a step forward as the dementors moved in to perform the kiss on all four of them, “Expecto Patronum.”

Once more the night was lit a pale shade of blue whilst Harry’s voice echoes through the school grounds; a large white antlered beast galloped across the lake and the dementors turned to face it instead as it ran them over one by one. It was soon joined by a twin that helped ward of the hoard of nearly a hundred dementors; the more Hermione observed the two patronuses, the less they looked alike.

“Who?” Hermione heard herself ask as she turned to Kurt in amazement, if there was another caster it could only be his work.

“The person I would not only trust with my life but whom I would trust with the lives of those dearest to me,” Kurt smiled broadly.

“Neville?” Hermione did a double take and felt a pang of guilt for doubting the boy’s abilities, “how?”

Kurt waited for the dementors to disperse before answering her question, “it happened after the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw match, I asked myself what was so different about Harry from me that made him different from me and able to cast a Patronus.” Kurt’s smile was contagious and Hermione couldn’t help smiling, “then it hit me; we’d both known true tragedy but Harry’s whole life before coming to Hogwarts had been miserable, my life had been mostly been happy. I don’t value happiness as much as he does, it came after I considered the things I hold dear; money and friends. I once lived off welfare so being wealthy is important to me because I hated being poor, and I didn’t have friends before coming to Hogwarts so you guys mean the world to me.”

“You lived on welfare,” Hermione’s eyes shot wide open at this discovery about her best friend, “when?”

“When I had cancer; my mother died and my father lost his job due to the amount of time he took off, we didn’t have any income,” Kurt shrugged, “it’s a time filled with terrible guilt and shame for me. We got rich after my mother’s life insurance pay out and the malpractice suit from the botched up surgical procedure.”

“You’ve never mentioned this ever,” Hermione was wounded that Kurt would keep this from her.

“Shame is for everyone,” Kurt waved a dismissive hand, “don’t interrupt, this is what I was guilty about earlier. Harry’s happiness is amplified by his earlier misery much like my materialism is by my former poverty.” Kurt smiled at his Burkin, “I asked myself, who else has had similar experience?”

“Neville Longbottom,” Harry face palmed as the pieces fell into place on his end.

“And he was a natural,” Kurt smiled, before giving Harry a comforting smile, “I’m sorry you thought it was your dad.”

“Don’t be,” Harry chuckled, “my semi-conscious self couldn’t comprehend seeing itself and created a coping mechanism.”

“How did you know so perfectly when what needed to be done?” Hermione asked Kurt, he had been a true asset today and she was curious as to what the secret behind his success was.

“I came back in stages,” Kurt blushed violently, “observing how we did things.”

Hermione smiled, moving closer to Buckbeak, “let’s go break Sirius out and call it a day.”

Harry helped her onto Buckbeak’s back, she pulled him up and they both extended their hands toward Kurt. He simply shook his head, “I have to go thank our many saviours, I’ll see you back in the hospital wing.”

“Kurt,” Harry called out as Buckbeak was getting ready to take off, “thanks, for everything.”

“You’re my friend,” Kurt smiled, “I’d do anything to protect you.” Kurt turned to leave before scurrying back just as quickly and handed Hermione a chocolate bar, “give this to Sirius Black, won’t you.”

Buckbeak took off at a run and Hermione’s stomach did a summersault before dropping as they took off at great speed; she truly loathed flying, she could do it in a plane but otherwise it was just too unpredictable. They flew up to the west tower, Hermione knew which window was Professor Flitwick’s office by memory, “Bombarda.”

Both the window and the frame shattered, Sirius was curled up in a ball on the office floor but slowly got to his feet and came towards the window; Hermione held out the chocolate bar, “Kurt sends his regards.”

“That boy,” Sirius tucked into the chocolate bar with less grace than Kurt would approved of, “I wish I could take credit.”

“You’re not alone in that category,” Harry giggled as he held Buckbeak steady next to the window sill. Soon as Sirius was safely mounted they took off, flying to a corridor near the hospital wing where Kurt was waiting for them.

They dismounted and Sirius pulled Kurt into a tight hug, “thanks for the chocolate.”

“Seriously, what about me invites people to touch me?” Kurt rolled his eyes when Sirius didn’t let up, “I hear eating your feelings helps.”

The man let Kurt go and he took the opportunity to lather himself in hand sanitizer. Sirius turned to Hermione and bowed, “due to your age and gender, touching you might land me back in Azkaban; truly the brightest witch since Rowena Ravenclaw herself.” Hermione smiled and whispered a quick thank you before moving to Kurt sides and linking arms with him. Sirius turned to Harry, “this isn’t good bye, but I’m going to have to run far before I can run near.”

“You have the best guardian angel,” Harry pointed at Kurt as he hugged the man tightly.

“More like a guardian demon,” Kurt giggled as Sirius mounted Buckbeak.

“True friends are hard to come by,” Sirius pointed a firm finger, “friends who know what they are, almost impossible to find; hold on to these two.”

“Always,” Harry giggle.

The clock chimed loudly once more as Sirius and Buckbeak took off into the night sky, the three teens took off at a run as well; up the stairs and down the corridor toward the hospital wing.

They walked straight into Professor Dumbledore, Harry smiled broadly, “we did it.”

“Did what?” Hermione, Kurt and Professor Dumbledore chorused with furrowed brows; Harry simply gave them an understanding nod.

The three teens entered the hospital wing just as just as their former selves were disappearing, “But…” Ron spluttered, “you were just and the bathroom?”

“Whatever do you mean Ronald?” Hermione asked with huge smile on her face.

Kurt moved up to his side and held up a bottle of pills, “somebody clearly needs painkillers.”

“I hope you know that Kurt throwing pills at you means you're for the knackers,” Finn seemingly appeared out of nowhere in particular, hugging Kurt tightly and swinging him around.

“Put me down you great ape,” Kurt giggled wildly.


	14. Chapter 14

Sirius Black’s disappearance and Buckbeak’s escape had not been linked up as yet, weeks after the events of that mild June night and nobody knew the part that Harry, Hermione and Kurt had played in both incidences other than Professor Dumbledore. Kurt was certain that the bearded man would take the secret to his grave and so would they; their friends knew bits and pieces but none of them would ever piece together the whole story. Kurt’s bags were sitting packed on the stairs in front of the great hall as he waited for his friends to join him, mainly because it was Finn’s responsibility to carry his bag to the train.

“It’s been a grand year Hummel,” a thick Irish accented voice said from his left, “you’ve almost become bearable over time.”

“Oh Seamus,” Kurt cupped the boy’s cheek and gave a small shake of his head, “Nobody said you could talk to me.” The freckled boy paled and his ears turned a violent shade of red, “I’m just pulling your leg. Are you excited about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup?””

“Fuck yes,” the colour returned to the sandy haired boy’s face, “Ireland has got a team poised to kill, and yourself?”

“Nothing excites me aside from a designer fall collection,” Kurt gave the boy a patronising smile, “but if one must be excited about world cups then I chose rugby.”

“Good choice,” Seamus chuckled.

“All my choices are good ones,” Kurt pursed his lips, glancing over Seamus’s shoulder at a broodingly handsome face, “As much as I’m enjoying your new found maturity, I think my boyfriend is getting a little jealous and I fear his muscles are more impressive than yours.”

Seamus shot to his feet, “Cedric, I mean Mr Diggory… I mean sir.” Seamus let out a defeated sigh as Kurt giggled loudly, “I’m just going to go.”

Cedric gave a serious straight-faced nod, “I think I enjoy the sound of sir.”

“Don’t expect it from me until you’ve been knighted by The Queen,” Kurt shook a finger in front of the taller boy’s face, “And even then I doubt you’ll have earned the privilege.”

Cedric hooked his own index finger to Kurt’s extended one and pulled him closer by it, planting a chaste kiss on his lips, “I like the way you say my name too much to expect otherwise.”

“Whatever do you mean Cedric?” there was a melodic quality to the way Kurt crooned the boy’s name, “what specifically about the way I say Cedric Diggory do you like?”

Cedric leaned in close, whispering his response in Kurt’s ear; his breath hot on Kurt’s skin, “You have this unique way in which you roll the letter ‘r’ that makes everything sound that much better.”

“If I didn’t know better,” Kurt let out a loud gasp as Cedric teased the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck with his teeth, “I’d think you were coming on to me.”

“I am coming on to you,” Cedric gave Kurt a devilish smile before switching sides; Kurt’s feet turned to jelly under him, “how will I survive the summer without you?”

“Cedric stop,” Kurt moaned the words softly, not wanting the worship to end, “what if Professor McGonagall sees?”

“Let her see,” Cedric whispered, “let them all see and turn green with envy that have permission to touch you.”

“I might very well take that permission away if you don’t stop,” Kurt gave the boy a playful swat on the bicep, followed by an encouraging squeeze, “you’ve survived many a summer before me and you will survive this one without me.”

Cedric gave him a silencing kiss before giving him a puppy dog pout, “Will I?”

“Then come to South America with me,” Kurt shrugged, slipping out of the boys grasp and sultrily walking away, “Me and you, we’ll Peru, you’ll meet Harley Drew and they’ll be so much to… do.”

Cedric let out a tortured breath, not moving for a moment, “as tempting as that sounds…”

“I can see just how tempted you are,” Kurt teased with wag of his brow.

Cedric crossed his arms and his robe closed over his front, “you know my father got me an internship at St Mungo’s this summer.”

“I know,” Kurt used the boy’s strong arms to leverage himself up for a kiss.

“And if I didn’t have a thing for ambition I might be angry,” Hermione’s flawless impersonation of him came from behind Cedric.

“I told you that in confidence,” He hissed at Hermione, covering Cedric’s ears playfully.

“I already knew you were crazy about me,” Cedric teased him, “but watching you blush is so much fun.” The taller boy swung him around and Kissed him behind his ear, “I’m going to go, don’t tell your friend about my temptation till after I’m gone.” Then he did something Kurt wasn’t expecting, he softly whispered in his ear, “I love you.”

“Goodbye Cedric,” Hermione gave the boy a knowing smile as he climbed into a carriage with his friends.

“Goodbye Hermione,” He waved over his shoulder.

Kurt watched in disbelief as the boy who just told him that he loved him rode away in a thestral pulled carriage, being ridiculed by his friends for his affectionate nature toward Kurt, “he just told me he loved me, and didn’t give me a chance to say it back.”

“Would you have said it back,” Hermione asked, draping an arm over his shoulder.

Kurt tried to blink the confusion caused by what Cedric had said away, to no avail, “I don’t know.”

“Kurt doesn’t know something,” Ron chuckled as he, Finn and Harry came down the stairs shoulder to shoulder, “this is the beginning of the end.”

“I didn’t think this day would come,” Finn shook Kurt violently  as he stood flabbergasted, “think about Harley Drew, she’s so young and has Peru to live for; don’t end the world yet, think about the children.”

“You just took an emotionally complex moment in my life and made it about someone else,” Kurt swatted the back of Finn’s head, “Get my bags, you’re late and so help me god if we miss the train because of you three you will face my wrath.”

“You make situations about other people about you all the time,” Finn argued from behind Kurt, as he struggling with loading his own trunk as well as Kurt’s multiple Louis Vuitton trunks into the carriage; Kurt gave him a precautionary glare that set him right, “besides you love Harley Drew.”

“It is true I have an unexplainable soft for that little one,” Kurt gave a great big smile to nobody in particular.

“One might say you love her,” Hermione teased.

“One might just,” Kurt gave a small giggle.

“What’s this all about?” Harry asked, forcing back a contact high.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Kurt shook his head as the wind coursed through his hair.

“You still haven’t explained why you were late,” Hermione pointed out.

Ron gave a smug smile as he crossed his arms, “Harry was letting us ride his Firebolt.”

“I’m burning my Nimbus,” Finn smiled broadly, “I want one of those.”

Kurt pursed his lips in disapproval, “it’s almost your summer birthday, ask for it then.”

“I’m getting a tribal tattoo for my summer birthday,” Finn nodded eagerly.

“Really,” Kurt quirked a brow, “what tribe are you from?”

Ron chuckled, “you have this real talent for soul destroying, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Actually,” Kurt’s voice was thick with sarcasm, “I’ve been told it’s quite the skill and I should consider taking it straight to the bank.”

“Ten points to Slytherin,” Harry teased as they got out at the train station to find Ginny, Luna and Neville waiting on the platform for them.

“You’re late,” Luna scolded, “and not in the way you’d be if you didn’t have such good friends.”

“But to be honest,” Neville smiled broadly as he stepped on to the train, “we prefer this late much better.”

Ginny didn’t say anything but rather peered at Finn as he juggled the many trunks belonging to him and Kurt, “Finn you must be so strong.”

“I work out,” Finn smirked and flexed his biceps.

“Don’t talk to my sister,” Ron warned, stepping between Ginny and Finn, the taller boy simply shrugged and got back to work.

“Don’t talk to our Finn like that,” Hermione scolded Ron.

“Only we get to talk to him like that,” Luna added in a matter of fact tone before turning to Finn with an airy yet authoritative voice, “back to work.”

“I remember having one boss and that’s because I accidentally sold him my soul,” Finn waved a sassy finger.

“You didn’t sell it to me,” Kurt corrected as they boarded the train, “I won it in a hand of poker.”

“I thought we were playing go fish,” Finn argued over several heads as they tried to find a compartment, “you weren’t specific.”

“I didn’t say ‘go fish’ once,” Kurt shook his head, “besides, you didn’t ask me if I had anything.”

“I think we might have found something more exhausting than Ron and Kurt,” Neville chuckled.

“Kurt and Ron,” Kurt corrected, “you save our lives from the worst fate known to wizard kind and earn our eternal gratitude and you think you suddenly think you can start renaming public nuisances?” Neville swallowed heavily, “Good to know I can still strike fear into your heart.”

Neville let out a little chuckle as they seated themselves in an empty compartment, “those blue flames you were spinning lit up the entire Hogwarts grounds and warmed me across the river, even if I was over my fear of you it came back stronger than ever after seeing that.”

“He’s right,” Harry gave him a pat on the back, “you have to teach me that someday.”

Kurt gave a polite smile, “who’s excited about the quidditch world cup?”

There was wild humming in the compartment as the train conductor blew his whistle and the train began to move toward home; Kurt smiled as they all made plans to go to the finale together no matter who was playing, at least for the experience. For Kurt this would be the only match he’d be able to attend due to his summer White Lotus training but plans and promises were made none the less. Kurt watched the Hogwarts castle fade into the distance out of a window, something inside Kurt pulled like tether as he watched the building getting smaller and smaller; there would always be a part of him at Hogwarts, it was a world always new to him yet all his own despite having to share it with the other students.

Soon Kurt couldn’t see the castle anymore and there was nothing to see but rolling hills and valleys, it was then that he was startled by a feathery sphere slamming into the window as it struggled to Keep up with the Hogwarts Express.

“Is that an owl?” Hermione’s voice went high on the final syllable.

“Oh thank god,” Kurt clutched his chest in relief, “I thought I was hallucinating.”

Neville open the window and let the owl into the compartment, the owl was no bigger than a tennis ball and saw carrying a letter of equal size. Ginny pulled the letter from its talons as it lay, exhausted, in Neville’s lap “it’s for Harry.”

Harry read the letter quietly and as he did a smile spread on his face, “It’s from Sirius, he says he found a place to stay and a job on a remote muggle farm in France.”

“The ministry won’t find him there,” Ron gave a satisfied nod.

“The ministry can’t look for him there,” Hermione corrected, “it’s outside their derestriction.”

“He says the owl is for Ron,” Harry went on as he finished the last of the letter, “a replacement for Scabbers.”

“You’re not a middle aged man, are you?” Ron whispered to the small bird as it hopped onto his shoulder.

“I think he needs a name,” Luna announced.

“Something unique,” Ginny went on.”

“Not like scuttle,” Finn shook his head, “it seemed like a better idea when I was eleven.”

“MacFluff,” Hermione suggested, “a play on Macduff from the Scottish play, he’s the hero.”

“How’s about MacNo!” Ron chuckled at his own joke, “that’s a nerd name.”

“I’m naming him Pigwidgeon and there’s nothing you can say about it,” Ginny gave an evil grin like the one she’d given Kurt just before the basilisk kidnapped him, “I might tell mum if your mean to me.”

“Harry,” Kurt finally spoke, “when you right Sirius, tell him not to touch Oma’s Bourbon or she’ll cut off both his arms.”


End file.
